Scared
by SgtMac
Summary: It's just sex, right? It's not actually a thing. After the devastation of her reign as the Dark One has ended and about six months after suffering another heartbreaking loss, Emma finds herself in the middle of a passionate love affair with Regina. Problem is, she's too scared of losing Regina to be willing to call it love. That is until life steps in. Established SQ. Now complete.
1. One

**A/N:** This is a tale that I wrote and finished (sgtmac7) over on Tumblr. It's ten parts and has been edited and added to in order to provide a more cohesive and full reading experience. This story is complete so new parts will likely be posted every 24-48 hours depending on my overall availability.

This is a Regina/Emma love story, but also one of family, friendship and the pain of putting yourself out there for another try at that things called love.

* * *

Though almost every part of her longs to stay curled into this bed with Regina, wrapped around a body that is cold and always in need of the heat she offers, she long ago learned that there are always easy excuses for how to leave before the sun rises; today is no different. It's about fifteen minutes before five in the morning and the sun won't be up for another hour or so and they're both still slick with sweat and her eyes are on the rise and fall of Regina's chest as she pulls air into her lungs, her beautifully olive skin glistening. Emma thinks to herself that she could stay here forever like this – comfortable and sated - and that's all it takes to make her move away.

Yes, there are always easy excuses to escape when the fear sets in and the one for today – the one for this morning - is that she has an early day at the office.

"My boss is a pain in the ass," Emma drawls as she rises from the bed and absently reaches for her tight jeans – the indigo ones that frame her ass in a way she knows Regina appreciates - her eyes locked on Regina's half-covered body the whole time.

Finally, turning away, she starts pulling the jeans up her legs; they've been doing this dance of theirs for too long now for her to even consider trying to wear her panties. They always end up getting damaged in some way by their rather passionate activities so as of late, she has instead she chosen to briefly go commando (she'll be showering in her own apartment soon enough anyhow and gods how she would prefer to grab Regina by the hand and pull her into the bathroom here and ravish her again and again and again). It's not the most comfortable thing in the world considering the tightness of her jeans, but she figures she can deal with it for the time it takes to get from here to her apartment.

"Yes, well, you know by now that your boss just expects you to be on time," Regina answers quietly and it's exactly the response that she'd been expected to give, but there's an odd dullness to her voice that turns Emma around and makes her look the older woman over, her eyebrow lifted and worry creasing her brow deeply.

"Hey, are you okay?" Emma asks, a hand reaching out to cup Regina's cheek, the tips of her fingers dancing against the almost impossible softness of the Queen's olive colored skin. She smiles when she does this, enjoying the touch of the woman she has been spending so much time with as of late perhaps just a bit more than is safe. The voices in her head start chirping at her, and she knows that she needs to retreat and get to a safe distance, but Regina has always been a magnet for her.

Pulling her in and refusing to let her go even when they'd been clashing.

And now that they're not exactly clashing, well, the pull is even stronger.

Regina allows the gentle contact and even sighs for just a moment, but then she's shying away and saying softly as she clutches at the sheets and pulls them up and over her bare breasts (Emma really tries not to think about the feel of Regina's chest against her cheeks and the sound that she makes when her breasts are touched; she's intensely sensitive there and Emma is not one to leave such an opportunity unredeemed), "I'm perfectly fine, dear." It's a brush-off and Emma knows it well, but she's at a loss about what to do to make it better. They've been more or less together for six months now and passionate nights like the one that they'd just spent with each other have become a comfortable routine for them.

Sure, she's entertained the idea of more, but always pushed those thoughts way.

Because the dangers that lurk behind the idea of "more" are the ones that lead to blood on the green grass and glassy frozen forever eyes and someone saying with their last breath, "Find happiness" even as they carry a bit of the possibility of that off to the grave with them. She's been down that road before and can't do it again.

And besides, Regina has always had her easy convenient excuses as well, right?

"Right," Emma nods, dropping her hand away and then sliding a few inches away from Regina and the goddamned sheets that keep falling down and making her want climb back into the bed. "Uh, dinner tonight? I can pick us up some spaghetti."

"I have other plans," Regina answers flatly, her eyes oddly drifting away from Emma and over towards the open window. "I'm afraid that tonight won't work for me."

Emma feels the words like a kick to the gut but tells herself that she's surely overreacting here; she assures herself that this isn't a brush-off and that she's worrying about nothing at all. "Okay. Then, I guess…maybe see you tomorrow?"

"Of course you will see me tomorrow; I am still your boss after all," Regina replies and then absurdly, she pulls the sheets up tighter over her naked body. It looks ridiculous, really like she's trying to hide herself. Like she's trying to protect herself.

Emma moves away again and starts to pull on her red leather jacket (there's a slight tear in the arm of it and she would chuckle at that because Regina has rarely handled her or her jacket particularly gently, but now just doesn't seem the time for such mirth). Once the jacket – her armor - is on, she turns back to Regina, a deep frown marring her pale features. "Are you upset with me about something?"

"It's nothing," Regina dismisses and the sheet dips before being yanked up again.

"I don't even need my lie detector to know that's bullshit. It's clearly something. Because ten minutes ago, you were screaming my name and biting my neck and now you're freezing me out like I did something to piss you off. So…maybe tell me?"

"Leave it alone and go to work, Emma."

"So you are pissed at me."

"I'm not."

"Really? So what are your plans for tonight?"

Regina stiffens, her fingers curling into the sheets and Emma is reminded just how much they don't talk when they need to and how often arguments dissolve into heated touches and the feel of a wall against one of their backs. Not to say that she doesn't enjoy when their clothes are being shed and there's just the sound of whimpering and pleading as each of them takes and gives and touches, but every now and again it occurs to her how just how much they almost seemed to have devolved since the sexual part had begun between them. Before the first kiss on the back porch of the mansion after a night which has involved tears and too many fears, there had been cold root beer and hot grilled cheese and conversations that had scratched the line between casual and uncomfortably honest and deep.

Now there's this and while it most certainly feels wonderful physically, even Emma knows that it's become a bit like running and hiding. Like losing themselves in the heat of touches instead of trying to connect where they both want to. But the thing is, it's safe and it's secure and there can't be glassy eyes if this is all that they are.

There can't be "find happiness again" if they are never happiness to each other.

Right?

Right.

"I don't believe that my plans or lack of plans as the case may or may not be are any of your business," Regina answers shortly, the sheet clutched even tighter.

"So what you're telling me is you've got a hot date?" Emma challenges. It's a low blow because of course she knows better; Regina isn't the kind to date casually or easily and the only reason that she and Emma have been able to keep their affair a secret for as long as they have is because no one would ever believe it possible.

But it is possible, and suddenly Emma doesn't want to leave.

Suddenly Emma wants to crawl out of her clothes again and climb back onto the bed. She wants to push Regina down and kiss her and touch her and whisper into her ear that it doesn't have to always be about coming and going. Sometimes it can be about staying. Sometimes it can be about waking up together and not leaving.

But she's afraid; she's so goddamned afraid because every leap of faith that she has ever taken has ended up in the cemetery and without too many tears on her pillow.

And this is Regina.

"As a matter of fact, I do," Regina answers icily and this feels chillingly like they're suddenly getting thrown all the way back to the beginning of their relationship because there's just uncomfortable weird coldness and hurt between them right now; it hasn't been like this in years and she hasn't seen that freeze in Regina's eyes since the days of Cora Mills and her "kill everything" agenda. But it's there now and its rough armor wrapped tightly around the Queen. Protective and mean. So wrong.

Because Regina isn't that woman now, and Emma isn't the person that she'd been back during her first months in Storybrooke. She thinks that she might have been a lot braver and bolder then, but that's not hard to imagine considering the lovers and friends that she's buried since the night that she'd first set foot in this town.

It doesn't take a lot to lose your bravery, and she'd been dealt more than a lot.

Emma sighs loudly, her frustration apparent. "Whatever. I'm going to go."

"You usually do."

"You never ask me to stay," Emma snaps back, yanking her jacket tighter around her body with more force than is strictly necessary. Her face is bright red now, her jaw clenched with anger and frustration. Rationally, she knows that this is a conversation that they should have had weeks ago, but it feels a bit like an attack at the moment – like she's being blamed for why this suddenly isn't working at all.

"Would you?" Regina challenges, her tone deceptively casual, almost like she's trying to sound disinterested, but can't quite manage it (she's not the Evil Queen anymore and now cold and distant wears like ill-fitting clothes on her). Her slender fingers are gripping the sheets tight enough for Emma to see the whitening of her knuckles. "If I asked you to stay, Emma, tell me, would you actually consider it?"

Her first reply – the first word on her tongue and the one that her heart is practically screaming at her to say because God, she really doesn't want to leave this woman and that's so terrifying that it practically makes her throat close up in panic – is yes.

But then there's that ice cold fear and the doubts and the Lost Girl pulls away…

"That's not the arrangement that we have," Emma says instead.

It's the wrong words, the worst, and Emma knows it immediately by the hurt that streaks across Regina's face before she manages to get her protective mask up.

"We have an arrangement, do we? I see." Regina says then as she nods her head sharply, her pale lipstick free lips setting into a smile that's just a few uncomfortable shades shy of feral. "Well then, tell me, Sheriff Swan, who is paying whom here? Since you're leaving, should I be paying you for the sex or perhaps for the –"

"No, please. Come on. Don't do this," Emma pleads, her eyes suddenly very wide and panicked and a wash of old memories rushing over her – of all of the people she has loved and lost for whatever reason, all the ones she can't ever have back.

"Don't what?" Regina prompts, still so angry. "Force you to face something?"

"Don't put this between us. Please. We've been through too much. We –"

"We apparently haven't been through nearly as much as you – or I – thought. We aren't anything. You are the one who called what we have… an arrangement."

"I don't understand what's happening here," Emma says, looking so desperate and sad and hurt. Why are you suddenly so angry with me? What did I do wrong?"

There's a strange moment, then, where it looks like all of the anger melts away and it looks like Regina might just suddenly surge forward and wrap her arms around –

But it passes when her eyes flicker over Emma and see the clothes she's wearing.

As she prepares to leave again.

"Who said that I was angry?" Regina retorts.

"I know you."

"Not nearly as well as you think you do. Now go, Emma. Just…go."

"What if I want to stay?"

Their eyes meet and she thinks that there's a flash of hope. It fades, though.

It always fades.

"You don't," Regina replies, almost inaudibly.

Emma thinks that this is the moment that she's supposed to make the grand gesture and bridge the sudden gap between them. But then Regina is looking away from her and it seems too far and too hard and all of tombstones are just too much.

So instead, Emma says while swallowing hard, "You know what? When you're done with whatever the hell this tantrum is, Regina, you know where to find me."

"Oh, that won't be necessary. We're done," Regina says, her eyes flickering upwards. As if she's trying to ensure that there can be no doubt as to what she'd meant with her words. "You're free to go now. And do whatever it is…you do."

"Regina –"

"You should get into the office, dear; your boss might be willing to let a lot of your more questionable actions go because she has some sort of curious affection for you, but she's no longer willing to overlook your failure to take responsibility."

"More questionable actions. You might it sound like I'm a general fuck-up."

Regina's mouth opens and Emma thinks that she's about to correct that, because her eyes are suddenly wet and the anger is dropping away…but Emma's isn't.

She's hurt and she's scared and the floor is collapsing out from underneath her.

Right," she says then, but then waves her hand in disgust. "It's not worth it."

And just like that, Regina closes all the way back up again. "So you've said to me before. Though that time you were… 'hitting' me in an entirely different way."

Emma just barely stops her mouth from falling open in surprise at Regina's words (such crass colloquialisms are typically far beneath Regina – especially when she's in this cold Mayor Mills sort of modd - but she supposes that when such clearly deep hurt and upset is involved, old rules don't mean as much as they usually do). There's a part of her – most of her – that wants to counter this, but then the anger and frustration are rushing to the surface and she finds herself refusing to be the one who backs down here; she hadn't been the one to have started this fight.

And she hadn't been the one to initiate a break up for seemingly no reason at all.

"I'll pick up Henry from school this afternoon. You can go…piss someone else off."

"You don't care," the Queen announces, her chin lifting defiantly.

"At the moment, no, Regina, I really don't."

Regina doesn't reply to that, just looks at her with eyes that are suddenly dark and unreadable. The sheet is clutched so tight that Emma almost wonders if she's cutting off circulation in some weird way. Of course not, but God, so much fear.

It's written in broad stokes all over the both of them.

It's a once reliable bridge that has suddenly broken right in the middle, stranding both of them on opposite sides without a way to get back over to each other.

Emma tells herself to just let everything out and to just lay it all on the table; she tries to convince herself to let the words she feels surge to the surface and somehow make all of this right. She tries to tell herself to find a way across that bridge and to not just walk away from something that does make her so happy.

But there's Graham and Neal and Hook and so much goddamn blood on the grass.

There's roses over dirt, and goodbyes that just sound like "better luck next time."

Only there is never better luck, and this is Regina.

She can't…that can't be Regina.

Which means it can't ever be a thing. It can't ever be more sex between them.

Which means that she can't stay.

So she lifts her head in defiance and she pretends not to notice the way Regina's head drops and then she turns and walks away, slipping down the dark hallway.

And into a night that only whispers of loneliness and loss to her.

 **:D**

 **TBC…**


	2. Two

Chapter Warnings: Past tense mentions of Hook and Robin in this one. Thanks.

* * *

"Your Majesty," Emma announces loudly as she enters the Mayor's office sweeping her arm out in some kind of mock bowing motion. There's a thick yellow folder clutched tight in her hand – paperwork for Regina to sign off on; this is their weekly meeting, their walk-through of all of their current issues. At least that's what it's supposed to be.

There are times when this little business-hours weekly get-together of theirs been both more and less than that, and there have been more than a few times when the desk has been used for purposes far different than what it'd been intended for.

But Regina's icy gaze when she looks up from the giant pile of paperwork sitting on the glass covering the wooden surface suggests that's not going to be happening today; on the contrary, it seems quite clear to Emma that the freeze is still on.

And it has been – since three days ago when they'd had their bizarre argument in Regina's bedroom, Regina hasn't so much as sent a text to her (she also hasn't answered any of the ones that had been sent to her, all of them pleading with her to try to talk this through; Emma had stopped sending them after the second day, feeling humiliated and rejected and angry). And now here they are, the Mayor and the Sheriff and it's supposedly all business again in a way that it hasn't been for them in years. Not since the dark days when they had been at war with each other.

It makes everything that's usually so warm inside of her whenever she's around Regina go cold at the thought of that.

Especially since she doesn't have a single idea why it is that they're fighting at all.

"Miss Swan," Regina says crisply. "You're on time for once."

"I can be taught," Emma says flippantly, hoping for a laugh.

"Mm. Well sit, then, and let's get this over with," Regina says coolly instead.

Emma doesn't move, just stares back at her. Like maybe she's grown a second head.

"Sit."

"Not a dog," Emma snaps back defiantly, her hands clenching inside her pockets.

"Please," Regina grits out.

"Nah, I think I'll stand."

"By all means, Miss Swan, don't let me be the one to stand in the way of your comfort," Regina replies, her voice so clipped that Emma has to shake away the memories of a woman with shorter hair and a colder gaze. "Tell me, what kittens have you saved this week?"

"Okay, you know what, enough of this. What the hell is going on?"

"I think we're attempting to have a business–"

"With us. What the hell is going on with us, Regina?"

"Nothing. Absolutely nothing."

"Yeah, I got that part. My question is why? Three days ago, we were fine - we were more than fine - and then you were just randomly pissed off at me and I don't have a clue in the world why. So if you would be so gracious as to climb off your high horse long enough to tell me what crawled up your ass, I'd really appreciate that."

Regina stands up and practically marches around the desk so that she can get right up into Emma's space. "I think this meeting is over; it's clear that you're incapable of staying on task and acting like a professional today. So leave the file and go."

"No."

"I wasn't asking."

"Good, because I wasn't listening."

"You rarely do. Paying attention has never been a strong suit of yours."

"And there it is again," Emma growls, moving her hands from her pockets to settle on her hips. "Want to tell me what happened since clearly I wasn't a part of it?"

"I thought that we'd already established that," Regina retorts. "You're seldom part of anything that you can't get away from as quickly as you possible can, are you?"

Emma throws up her hands in frustration. "I don't know what we're talking about."

"Us, Emma. We were talking about us. Or in this case, the lack of us."

"Yeah, well, three days ago, that's what we were. Us."

"No, what we were, Emma, were fuck-buddies. I believe that's the term that you would prefer for us to use, yes? Three days ago, what we had. Apparently, was…an emotion-free arrangement. As you quite correctly reminded me that last night."

"We both agreed on this," Emma replies, the frustration sharpening her words harshly. " I thought that we…we were in this together. You were the one who said that this was just…stress relief for both of us. A way to…" she waves her hands around because saying all of this out loud makes it all sound so ridiculous and silly.

Because they'd been friends and partners and somehow (Emma remembers exactly how and she can still see that first night together so clearly) fallen into bed and she thinks that there's so much more to what they've become and what they are, but then there's red in her eyes and a lump in her throat and she just doesn't know...

"And so it was. Stress relieved. Well, I'm definitely quite relieved now."

"I really want to shake you right now."

"If you put your hands on me, I'll light you on fire," Regina answers defiantly.

"And what about if I kiss you?" Emma queries, taking a step closer to her, wondering if it could be so easy. "Will you light me on fire if I try to do that?"

But no, of course not. Quietly, in a tone so hurt and sad that it just about breaks Emma's heart because the pain in it is so deep and gods, what is this? "Don't."

"Fine. I don't know what I did to hurt you. I don't know why you're so mad at me. I do know that whatever I did, it wasn't intentional. I have no desire to ever hurt you. You mean…" She shakes her head, her throat closing around the words. "I hope you know that." She doesn't want for a response and as she's going through the door (after slamming the file down on Regina's desk – a desk that has held them both up at the most interesting of times), it occurs to Emma that this is starting to become a terrible habit for her – walking away from Regina in anger and frustration.

This realization (and the heartbreaking reflection that she can see in the glass of Regina still just standing there, not moving, almost like she's in some kind of bizarre emotional shell-shock) almost makes her turn around. But then there's unanswered texts and the coldness coming off of Regina. The words that she won't say. Emma still has no real idea what this is about, and there's a voice in her head screaming at her to find out, but there's another one reminding her that putting herself too far out always leads to emotional devastation and unimaginable loss.

She wonders if it's already too late for that.

And thinks (knows) that it probably is.

* * *

Henry notices that something's wrong with them about a week into their bizarre and sudden estrangement from each other; he's almost fifteen now and closing in in five-foot-ten and he's not quite the hugger that he used to be, but he still watches over both of his mothers carefully and he can see the tension in them.

That, and he notices that they haven't been around each other in almost seven days. Normally, they're obnoxiously close, almost to the point of being inseparable. Lunches, occasional (okay, more than occasional if he's totally honest with himself) dinners; they really have become the best of friends. So much so that his pal Max like to harass him by insisting that they're "totally doing it. Henry would really prefer not to ever think of his mothers in that way if possible, and besides, hadn't both of them been with guys before? Does it work like that? Can people be both? He thinks so, but it's honestly not anything he's ever really spent time dwelling on.

In any case, what was and has been for the last few years suddenly isn't.

And he doesn't like it one bit.

They've both been through so much loss and pain – Mom had reluctantly been forced to say goodbye to Robin Hood in order to save Marian's life (they'd talked once on the phone and said goodbye, and he and Emma had made her play video games all night) and Ma had watched Hook die in her arms (just like Dad had and just like Graham had before that and he thinks sometimes he sees this weird look in her eyes, like she's looking off and seeing something walking towards her) after trying to protect her from some demon troll.

Hook had promised her that he was a survivor, and that he would never leave her.

He might not have been the great love of her life – and Henry had never found his way closer than tolerance on behalf of his mother to Hook – but she'd loved him.

She'd loved him, and he'd left her.

And Mom, well Robin had been sold to her as her soul-mate. She'd believed in that.

Then let him go in order to do the right thing.

He thinks that she doesn't regret her choice, but he wonders if she's lonely.

Especially now when she and Emma seem to have drifted away from each other.

They've both suffered so many heartbreaks and he thinks they need each other.

He knows that they do.

But something has gone wrong, something has broken.

Which means it's his job to fix it.

Because that, well that's what he does for this family; he brings them together.

* * *

It's embarrassing, really; she's closing in on having been alive for almost seven decades and yet she still has these deeply erotic sexual dreams like a young silly girl. Fantasies, Regina thinks and laughs awkwardly because yes, that's probably exactly what the dream she'd just woken up from had been – a perfect vision.

Of turning around in Emma's arms in the morning and kissing her and being kissed and made love to, and gods it's so silly and she's not a little girl, but she's just a little bit wistful and wanting of those things that young girls (most, anyway) are free to dream about. The perfect romance and the tenderness of always and forever.

Words that Daniel and Robin had both – through no fault of their own (and somehow that just makes it even worse) helped her to stop believing in.

And yet some stupid silly naïve part still tries to believe it whenever Emma –

She growls and pushes out of her bed; it's just after three in the morning and thanks to her job, she has to deal with a room full of entitled royal elitists who all would love to see her dead or at least crushed beneath their heels in a few hours. She has to deal with that asshole Scar who seems to think he just needs a flip of the cards in his direction and he'll somehow be back to ruling on top of Pride Rock. Or wherever the hell he thinks the highest point of Storybrooke is. The guy is the worst kind of misogynistic creep and that's saying something considering who else will be in the room. People like Midas and George and a few other worthless former lords.

Which means that she'll have to be the biggest shark in the room, the ruthless one capable of using her teeth, but Regina feels like anything but that right now.

Mostly, she just feels like an idiot who will never learn.

 _Love is weakness, Regina. Love is weakness._

Yes, Mother, yes it is.

She turns towards her nightstand and grabs at the glass of water, trying not to think about how often such a glass has been there to help with dehydration after other more interesting activities. Trying not to think about the images from the dream – images that she can still see so clearly. Because it's utterly pathetically ridiculous and Emma is just… just…she's just Emma and Regina knows she will never learn.

She's a fool – a Queen on her knees, felled again by her fragile damning heart.

But then her body is the one failing her, and her phone is in her hands and she's dialing and waiting only seconds before Emma is answering with her name, quiet and breathy and sounding worried. So Regina says even more softly, "Come over."

There's a pause, "Will you talk to me? Will you tell me what's going on?"

She shakes her head. Because this is weakness, and she knows that no good will come of backing door here and pretending that what is isn't. "No. Emma –"

"Then no."

"I need –"

"So do I. Goodnight."

The line goes dead.

She just barely manages to get the sound-shield up around her room before she screams everything out, before tears flood down her cheeks and she's collapsing.

Frustration. Hurt. Heartbreak. Need. Want.

Fear.

That's always what it comes down to.

Because if she's right about what this is – about what all of this means to Emma and what it actually is to her – if she's right and this isn't…if this is all just an arrangement of the physical to Emma and a way for her to run away and hide from the fear that lives deep within her, then…then maybe, Regina thinks as the energy flows from her and it's just her mind turning, maybe then she needs to back off.

She thinks that she should back off from this little affair of theirs and step away and maybe after awhile, they'll find a way to save the friendship that they'd built.

The friendship that had supported the both of them when they'd both been unsteady and adrift. It had been a life-line for both of them. Given them strength.

And that's what matters most, right?

Being strong. Refusing to break.

Never again, right? Right?

Everything else, well…she's never really had it, anyway.

She falls back on the bed, turns her face towards the pillow and refuses to cry.

Or at least that's what she tells herself.

She never was particularly good at lying.

* * *

Once the call ends, Emma almost gets up – she almost gets out of her bed and pulls on clothes. She even sees herself in her car, starting up the engine and blowing into her hands to warm then up as she drives her way over towards the Mansion.

But then there's "no" and the realization that whatever has suddenly broken apart between she and Regina - whatever had snapped so hard - has to be fixed first.

Assuming that it even can be. Assuming that she can find a way to get Regina to open up and tell her what the hell is going on in her mind; to explain why she's suddenly retreating and pushing someone who cares of much for her away.

Emma hears the chime of her phone, an unexpected text message coming in at three-thirty in the morning. She sighs loudly, the sound echoing again her walls, and turns towards it, praying that it's not Regina asking her to come over again.

Knowing that she doesn't have the strength to refuse her twice.

But it's Henry and he's saying: **MOM IS CRYING. WHY?**

She considers not replying to him; after all, she should be sleeping.

But she's not sleeping and so her fingers flick against the keyboard of her phone in a practiced manner and she replies: **SHE'S HAVING A PRETTY ROUGH WEEK.**

 **SO ARE YOU. WHAT'S GOING ON? WHY ARE YOU TWO FIGHTING AGAIN?**

She grumbles out a crass insult about her son and how he's just like his goddamn infuriating pain in the ass mother (and she…she…they're her family) and then she picks up the phone and quickly dials his number. "Kid," she scolds the moment he picks it up. "You should be sleeping; you have an Algebra test in the morning."

"Don't change the subject," he scolds back. "Why is she upset? Why are you?"

"We had a...something. I guess a fight. A disagreement. I dunno."

"About what?"

"That's kind of between us." Better than saying, "Hell if I know," she figures.

"She's crying, Emma," he replies and for a moment, he sounds just like his twelve-year old self, the one who had humored none of this adult crap. "She thinks I don't know, but her sound barriers suck when she's upset and it's only muffling her."

"What do you want me to do about it? I can't come over there right now."

"Can't or won't?"

"Both."

"She needs you."

"You don't even know what you're talking about," Emma tells him.

"Then tell me."

"Too late at night and too complicated."

There's a pause and then, "You two…are you two…together? Like a thing?"

"Go to bed, Henry," she answers tiredly, not wanting to be the one to blow up his whole world with the knowledge that his mothers have been sleeping together.

"Fine, but you gotta fix this."

"Maybe, but so does she, and it's sure as hell not going to happen tonight."

"You gotta fix this," he says again.

"Some things aren't fixable, Henry; consider that an early morning life lesson from someone who knows that all too well. Now hang up the phone and go back to bed; I'll see you after school tomorrow. Try not to fuck up your test, okay? She'll have my -" she scowls because now that statement means something else. "Just don't."

"Terrible motivational speech. The worst."

"It's almost four in the morning."

"Yeah, and she's still crying."

"Kid, come on."

"Do you…do you love her?"

"Henry."

"Right. Night, Emma."

She throws the phone through the wall a few seconds later.

And thanks God that she lives alone most of the time.

Her eyes close, open and then close again. She breathes in, out and in again.

It doesn't make anything better.

Because she wants so desperately to get up and go to Regina.

To make this all better.

But she doesn't know how. She doesn't know how to make Regina tell her why she's so upset and what old demons are circling around in that head of hers.

Truth be told, she's desperately afraid of the answer.

Desperately afraid to find out that the answer isn't about Regina's demons and rather is about the fact - the impossible to escape from conclusion - that maybe she isn't what Regina wants. That maybe she just isn't enough for Regina to want to hang on for. That maybe Regina is yet another person who will choose to leave her.

Isn't that always the answer?

Yeah, it usually is.

She closes her eyes, breathes in again and tries to force the everything to go away.

That used to work…used to be enough to protect her.

But then there was Henry and this town and her parents and Hook and…

Regina.

There was Regina.

Emma's head hits the pillow and she stares up at the ceiling.

And then she gets up out of the bed and reaches for her jeans.

 **TBC…**

 **:D**


	3. Three

Warnings: Mild language, sexual situations, a shit ton of angst, and some past tense relationship mentions.

* * *

It's drizzling by the time Emma gets to the mansion and maybe it's the splatters of cold water hitting against her face and leaving chilled skin in their wake, but she's starting to have second thoughts about this. Because what if coming over tonight just makes everything worse? What if she adds gasoline to a fire that's already raging pretty hot; what if she does something that breaks things even more than they already are? She laughs at herself and tells herself be calm and cool and everything will be all right. Problem is, she doesn't actually feel that way. She doesn't feel calm nor cool and as she climbs to the second story and slides along the roof to the window that she knows will be unlocked (if it's not, well she knows how to open it, anyway), she feels anger brewing in the middle of her chest.

Because this isn't her fault.

She hadn't started this fight. She hadn't been the one to end things.

And she hadn't been the one to call over asking for her lover to come over.

But she had been the one to come over so well…there's that.

Sighing dramatically, Emma slides over to the window, and yeah, it's unlocked just as she'd expected it to be (Regina has gotten a bit sloppy about this window as of late, and sometimes Emma worries and thinks that she should more than just nudge Regina to take better precautions, but it's not like that ever works, anyway).

Using the heel of her right hand, Emma pushes it up and climbs inside. She slips into the bathroom of the master suite and then opens the door and steps into Regina's bedroom.

"Emma?" she hears from somewhere over by the bed. Quiet and uncertain.

"Yeah," Emma says as she flips on the light. What she sees makes her inhale sharply, and maybe it's the confusion there or maybe it's the tear tracks on Regina's cheeks, but whatever it is, that slow simmering anger suddenly bubbles and pops and before she can stop herself – before her common sense can step in and remind her that she had come over here to try to make things right, to try to find a way to fix this because she does care so goddamn much about this frustrating woman – she finds herself saying, "So how's this going to work tonight? You want me on the bottom or the top? Just tell me what I'm supposed to do since apparently you're the one calling the shots these days." Her fingers track to her belt and she starts to pull it loose, as if to reinforce the harshness of her just delivered angry words.

Regina stares back at her, the moonlight on her cheeks. "What?"

"That's what you meant when you asked me to come over, yeah? You want to -"

"Emma." She sounds so wounded and hurt. "No -"

"I asked you if you wanted to talk –"

"No, you asked me if I was going to talk. I said no. I didn't say –"

"And you said no."

"As did you. So why are you here now?" Regina asks, swinging her legs over the edge of the bed and then standing up. For a moment, she looks a bit unsteady, a hand reaching out to grab the wall. When she's pulled herself up straight, she looks right at Emma, something dark and emotional and so very wanting in her eyes.

But there's more than that there. It's not just want. No, it's…oh.

 _Oh._

A thousand alarms going off in her head (all of them telling her to run, and deep down, she knows that she will eventually) Emma ignores them all and responds by surging forward and grabbing Regina's face, a hand on settling on the underside of both sides of her jaw. With only a moment lost in order to find Regina's eyes and verify for herself that she will accept this, Emma presses her lips to Regina's, swallowing the soft gasp of pleasure she hears, allowing herself to enjoy the texture and taste of the Queen's mouth.

The kiss deepens and then Emma is pushing her up against the wall and moving her mouth down to Regina's neck, her teeth grazing over warm skin that still smells of apples and lavender. A hand slides around behind Emma's back, nails biting into the leather of her jacket as Regina pulls her close, as she murmurs Emma's name.

Like some kind of goddamn prayer and it's both intoxicating and terrifying.

"I want you," Emma whispers, biting lightly at the softness of Regina's right earlobe and giving it just a little bit of a tug with her teeth. "I want you so much. I came over tonight because being away from you is driving me crazy. I don't want that."

"Don't want what?" Regina mumbles, her head hitting the wall as Emma returns her attention to her neck, the blonde's tongue snaking out to lick at her pulse point.

"To not have this," Emma answers and then she's looping an arm around Regina's thin waist and spinning them both towards the bed. They fall onto it together with a soft bouncing thump and then she's crawling over the top of Regina, her mouth returning to Regina's very much willing one even as the Queen's hands reach up to start divesting Emma of her clothing (jacket, shirt, jeans, underwear for once- all must go now), the need to be skin on skin clearly as urgent for Regina as it is for Emma. The moment they are bare naked, the moment they are touching each other with nothing in between them, Emma sighs and presses even closer to her.

And listens to the almost feline like growl that surges out of Regina's throat.

"God, I missed you," Emma says, capturing Regina's lips again and again and again until Regina is whimpering in protest. It's only been a few days since the last time they were together – only seven of them, in fact – but it feels like forever and –

"No," she suddenly hears. "No, Emma, wait. Wait. Stop."

"Why?" Emma answers, her fingers traveling up Regina's skin and -

"Because you came over here tonight to yell at me."

Emma pulls back in surprise, feeling once again off-kilter. "What?"

That's all it takes for Regina to roll out from under her, and it's a bit absurd because she's completely naked, her full chest heaving with exertion and desire, but her eyes are dark and confused and whatever has been haunting her is suddenly there again. "You didn't come over for sex as much as you started telling yourself that you did once you got into my room. When you climbed up on my roof, there was something else that you wanted. "She almost sounds oddly hopeful, like maybe whatever it is bothering her, maybe Emma finally understand it. "So what was it?"

"Not to yell at you," Emma insists, sitting up and grabbing for her shirt. She watches as Regina somewhat mirrors her motion, pulling her bathrobe around her. "Just to talk. Which is what I've always wanted to do, and…you asked me to come over and so I thought…I thought maybe if we could maybe talk, we could work this out."

"Work what out?"

"Whatever's gone wrong with us all of the sudden."

Regina nods her head. "But you know what it is now, don't you? Maybe you didn't when you crawled through my window, but you do now. Which is why you kissed me. Because sex is always easier for us, right? You can fuck me and then escape to your apartment and then everything is back to the way you like it. Controlled."

"No, I kissed you because I wanted to kiss you," Emma says tiredly, sounding so very confused. "I kissed you because I missed touching you and being near you and yeah, I guess that's…that's just sex. Which apparently is a bad thing. I think."

"Just," Regina replies, her voice thick with hurt. "Well, it's bad if that's all we are."

"Is that all that 'we' are to you? Sex?" Emma questions.

"You're the one who called it an arrangement," Regina reminds her again.

"It was a stupid thing to say, okay. I get that."

"Do you? Do you even know what you're apologizing for?"

"For hurting you. Even though I'm still not sure what I did, I know that I did that much and I hate it." She steps close to Regina and then just because it feels like the right thing to do, she reaches out and pulls her into a hug; there's a brief moment of resistance, an almost struggle, but then Regina is sagging against her. "I thought what we had was okay," Emma tells her. "But it clearly doesn't make you happy."

"No," Regina admits.

Emma pulls away. "Then I think maybe you're right and we should end this."

Regina's eyes close. "All right," she says softly, and starts to turn.

"Or you can tell me what you need from me and we can try to…"

"Try to what? Be more than our arrangement. You don't want that."

"How do you know what I want?"

"Because I know you. And I know what this is."

"Yeah? Then that makes one of us. How about you clue me in."

"Safety," Regina says, her head lifting up, eyes glimmering. "That's what this is. That's what we are, Emma. After losing Neal and Hook, I'm safe to you. For you."

Emma laughs, the sound bizarrely loud and almost hysterical and it's only the deeply hurt look on Regina's face that makes her stop. "Sorry, but…of all the things that I would choose to call you, Regina, safe isn't ever going to be one of them."

"Maybe not, but deep down, you know –"

"You're not safe," Emma reiterates, her voice almost urgent in its desperation. "You're about as far from safe as a person can possibly get, Regina. You scare the shit out of me every single time that I'm near you, and that has absolutely nothing to do with who you are and everything to do with what you are to me."

"Which is what?"

"Someone that I could break a thousand promises that I've made to myself for."

"Emma," Regina breathes.

Emma laughs again, but this time she sounds almost sad, almost panicked and there's every bit of the woman who has lost so very much so many times coming out in her. Every bit of the one who swore she'd never lose again. "I can't do this."

"Do what?"

"Fall in love again. It's why…" her eyes close. "Dammit, Regina. That's why you're so pissed off at me." Her eyes open. "You already have, haven't you? I thought I saw something, and I told myself it was just how turned on you were, but –"

"You should go."

"You're right, I should," Emma says dully. "God, I was so stupid, wasn't I? I really thought that…I thought that we were friends and that doing this would be okay and that we could control this. Just…fill up the empty moments with each other."

It wasn't just you who thought that, my dear," Regina assures her. But what she means to say but doesn't dare is that the heart doesn't ever work like that.

Even she knows that, and perhaps, once she pushes the denial away and faces the truth, she realizes she always had. But then, a part of her has been in love with Emma for a very long time – maybe even longer than even she had ever recognized.

Maybe this was always fated to go like this. To end this way.

"I'm sorry," Emma whispers, the words like a toxic dagger. "But -"

"But you can't."

"I can't. I can't do this again. I…" she stops, swallows hard, tears in her eyes. "We could…we can go back, right?" The words sound foolish even to herself, but her heart is swelling and it all hurts so very much. Because there's blood on the grass and Neal and Hook and their eyes closing while she'd begged both of them to stay.

There's so much red on her hands and carved tombstones sitting on recently mowed grass, and then there's Regina with her cool palms and her dark keen eyes that see her so very well and oh, everything gets so frighteningly real again.

So very real.

Regina shakes her head. "I have too much respect for myself for that. To just pretend that we don't know. That I don't. I think I've lied to myself enough in this lifetime. I won't lie to myself about this. I would hope you wouldn't ask me to."

"I want you," Emma whispers, stepping forward and pressing her forehead to Regina's. She feels Regina's arms circle her, even now unable to deny contact.

"And I, you more than I care to admit, Emma. But it's not enough. I need more."

"How are you able to do this?" Emma asks. "How - why are you so willing to try again?" The question is quiet and honest, and there's no judgment to be found within her desperate words, only misery and perhaps a bit of jealous awe.

"Because it's you," Regina answers with a small devastatingly sad smile that somehow meets her pained eyes. "And there's no one that I trust more than you."

The word "trust" is loaded down, heavy with all of the implications of what she trusts Emma with. Her life, her precious child and even her deeply wounded heart.

"You pushed me away –"

"Because when I looked up and saw you hurrying to get away from me that night, I saw where this was going. I tried to not face this and I thought I could just block you out until this…but I can't and I want…I need more. I need you. All of you."

"What can I do? I don't –"

"You can't do what you're not willing to do, Emma. I won't force you to stay with me - to try to love me when you don't. I understand. I get it. And if it was anyone else, but you…but it is. And I'm not enough to be that for you. I get that, too."

"No. That's not what this is. It's not –"

"It is." She leans up and gently presses her lips to Emma's, holding them there for a moment, feeling their warm tears collide and mix across their faces before they slide down to dust the skin of their shoulders. "Go," she says softly. "Please."

"Us?" Emma whispers, a tear trickling down her cheek.

"No longer exists, and maybe, Emma, that's for the best - we never made sense, anyway. We'll just stay away from each other until it's easier and then maybe –"

"Maybe we can…" She tries to say "friends" but the word tastes so bitter.

"Maybe." But she doesn't sound like she believes it and somehow, that makes all of this hurt that much more. That makes this loss all the more heartbreaking.

"I'm a coward, aren't I?"

"Only you can answer that question."

"But you think I am."

"No, I think that you're the bravest woman that I have ever met." She smiles like she wants to say something else - other words - but she doesn't dare to. Won't be pathetic enough to say heartfelt words that won't ever be repeated back to her.

"You have no idea how much I wish that were true," Emma says. "And I know these are words no one believes, but it really is me. I need you to – I hope you know that."

Regina forces a smile, and then wipes tears away from her eyes, but doesn't reply.

But then, like she thinks this is the last time for them and she wants something to help remind her it happened and that for even half a moment, she'd had hope of happiness again, she's the one leaning in for a kiss, and this time, she's the one pulling Emma close and holding her as tightly against her as she possibly can.

She feels Emma against her, shuddering, as shattered by this as she is.

But still unable to push past all of the ghosts haunting her heart.

They hold on, though. Hold on to each other and this moment where they're close and they're touching and even if it's all crumbling apart around them and it feels like solid ground is an ideal and not a reality, they still make each other stronger.

They hold on to each other for as long as they possibly can.

But it's not long enough and when Emma's back at her apartment an hour later and there's just the dark shadows from the moonlight splashing against the walls circling all around her and the knowledge that she's alone because she can't bear to risk losing someone that she loves again (God, it's already too late, she realizes, and it truly is), she thinks – know - that perhaps she's made a terrible mistake.

But it's a mistake that she doesn't know how to come back from.

It's a mistake that she's not sure there is a way back from.

Because her heart is too fragile, and she's got too many dancing skeletons.

She closes her eyes and tries not to dream about Neal and Hook.

But it's not them that Emma dreams about dying in her arms.

And it's not either one of them that she wakes up screaming out for.

 **TBC…**

 **:D**


	4. Four

**Warnings** : Only thing in this chapter is a few mentions of Emma and Regina's past relationships. And yeah, angst. Enjoy the...quiet.

:D

* * *

It's easier to stay away from each other than it should be; it should be almost impossible to keep clear of one another other in this crowded little town of theirs, and to a degree, it is thanks to their jobs (she's run across Regina at least once a morning for the last several days, but they've both pretended not to notice the other one and she hates that more than she can reasonably put into words).

But it's more than just about needing to try to avoid each other in order to avoid a painful interaction. It's about trying to forget how much they actually know and understand about each other. All the way down to the little things. Against her will, Emma finds her mind straying away from her constantly, over towards what Regina might be doing at any particular given moment. She finds herself checking the clock and thinking about what part of the day her former lover is in the middle of. Nine in the morning means she's checking over all of the action or incidents reports that had been filed and delivered the night before (Monday is by far the worst for these thanks to the weekend and Regina is always in a mood afterwards).

Eleven means she's reaching for a granola bar. One of those zero fat ones with fruit.

Two means that she's taking a walk around the building to stretch her legs.

Four means that she's starting to think about what to make for dinner.

All things Emma tells herself she no longer has the right to think about.

But the mind and heart don't work that way and she wants so much that it aches.

Still, it's surprisingly easy not to leave her desk and make her way over to City Hall where Regina is. Perhaps because despite her desire to do something foolish and impulsive, something that would make all of this – this sudden separation - just that much harder, Emma knows that nothing has changed since the conversation in Regina's bedroom; she's no more willing today than she was just a few weeks earlier to fully commit to this thing of theirs. She's still not willing to go all in.

She just can't.

Because every night when she closes her eyes and tries to fall asleep, she sees blood and hears screams and it's not just Neal and Hook and August and Graham (and sometimes Walsh even if he'd been a fraud) calling out for her. No, sometimes it's Regina and sometimes, it's already too late and there's not even screaming coming from her mouth, just open glassy coldly vacant eyes staring forever past her.

And she can't – won't deal with that. She can't lose Regina.

Even if that means losing her.

Because Regina alive and safe and okay…that's still better than the alternative, right? Even if it means that they're not together and they're both miserable and -

"Emma," she hears. She looks up and forces herself to smile at her father as he swaggers his way into the room, a white bag stained with grease in his hand. He offers it to her. "Pastrami on rye," he says before dropping himself down into the chair opposite her. "And a double order of onion rings with barbecue sauce."

The perfection of her order is enough to make her forced smile turn to an actual grin. She tries not to see the worry settled deep in his blue eyes – worry that's been there for awhile now when he looks back at her. He doesn't know exactly what it is that's going on, but he knows that she's been off for the last three weeks, not quite her usual self. A bit quieter and maybe a sadder for reasons only she is aware of.

She imagines that he most certainly also realizes that Regina hasn't been hanging around like she usually is; she hasn't been haunting the station in some show of dominant power meant to amuse her as much as it supposedly annoys her sheriff.

When he'd asked after Regina, she had told him that Regina is likely just busy but then last week she'd sent him for the weekly meeting instead of going herself.

And yeah, Emma knows that her father is most certainly aware that something's going on that he doesn't quite understand. That something weird has happened between his daughter and the woman who has become something of family to him.

Emma almost laughs at that because well, she thinks that he doesn't realize just how much like family she and Regina had truly gotten over the many months that they'd been together -just not in the sisterly kind of way. But that's all over now and she needs to stay away from Regina. Is trying to tell herself that it's easy to.

But it's not and apparently the lies that you can tell to yourself to stay safe will keep coming if you allow them to. Apparently the lies don't stop just because love ends.

So she tells herself yet another lie, this one soft and quiet and obvious, "Something came up," she says, dropping her head down so she can take a sip from the cup of soda that he'd handed to her. "I need you to take the meeting with Regina today."

His head tilts slightly, lines beneath his eyes forming as he frowns deeply, Emma's words sounding just like the sad lies he knows them to be. And he wonders.

Because Ruby had said something really strange one evening several months ago when it'd been just he and Snow and Ruby hanging out together at the loft, little baby Neal cradled against his mama's chest, a movie on in front of them. She'd laughed and said, "I wonder when Regina and Emma are going to just get with it."

"With it?" David had asked at the time, and he remembers now that Snow curiously hadn't said a word. Like maybe she'd already known what Ruby had meant by that.

But then Ruby had shrugged her shoulders and reached for the bottle of red wine on the table in front of them and as she'd been refilling all of their glasses (not that any of them had needed it) she had replied with a loud chirping laugh, "Nah, nothing. Just…trust me, nothing that makes a bit sense. Anyone up for strip poker?"

Not that they'd played that. Of course not.

But in any case, that had been the end of it. Still, clearly, it'd stuck somewhere in the back of his mind and now as he watches his daughter drum her fingers against the report that she claims she doesn't have time to take over to Regina herself, he finds himself wondering again what Ruby had actually meant by that statement.

"So," David says now, his eyes on Emma, "Not that I mind running this over to Regina for you and taking the meeting, but…anything else I can help you with?"

"Such as?"

He shrugs his shoulders and then flashes her one of his most boyish smiles, and she's his daughter and not his wife, but it still works. "Why you're avoiding Regina?"

Emma laughs. "Subtle as a brick."

"We have that in common," he notes. "And whatever has been upsetting you –"

"I'm not being subtle about at all," Emma admits. "I know. But…it doesn't matter."

"What doesn't matter?"

"I made a choice," she says and then puts the sandwich down. "For myself."

"To…end your…friendship with Regina?"

She snorts at that and tries not to see visions that she knows that she's no longer entitled to. Visions of soft hands and softer lips and a head on a pillow and –

"Ah, right. You two…you and Regina –"

"Why is that everyone's reaction? Henry sounded like that, too," she grumbles.

"It is surprising," he insists.

"Yeah, well, it doesn't matter," she says again, softer this time.

"Oh," he breathes. "Now I get it. Operation Stubborn Goddamn Mules."

"Excuse me?"

"Henry. Two weeks ago he stormed into the loft muttering something about people being stupid and asking how he was ever supposed to have a love life of his own if he was always having to figure out a way to resolve everyone else's. And then he said it was time for something called Operation Stubborn Goddamn Mules. But he wouldn't give us any details, told us he had it under control. But he hasn't mentioned it in awhile so I didn't think anything about it. But…that was you two?"

"Mule Number One. Or maybe I'm Number Two; who the hell knows?" Emma admits with a shrug that tries to be far less affected than she is. "It didn't work out. I think maybe we both knew that there was no chance it could have. And it didn't."

"I'm…I'm sorry."

"Are you? It's not Regina is who you would have wanted me to be with."

"Above everything else, Emma, I want you happy. I accepted you with Hook."

She looks down for a moment before softly replying, "Regina is…different."

"Regina is thousand other strange things to us. And…and I'm okay with that."

"Yeah."

"And if you're happy –"

"It's over," she breaks in, sniffling back the ache that's building up once again.

He nods, but his eyes show confusion. "So what happened? What…ended things?"

"We just weren't on the same page."

"About –"

"What we wanted from each other."

"Why do I feel like I'm missing half of this story?"

"Because it doesn't matter," she says once more. "And right now what I need isn't this conversation; right now, what I need you to do is go to the meeting with her. Tell her we're going to need funds for a new cruiser before the month is out."

David stands up again, taking the folder of paperwork into his hand. He flips through it and sees a request for a vehicle, the paperwork clean and neat, proper in a way that seems oddly wrong for his paperwork despising oldest child.

"And David? Please don't…don't try to fix this, okay? Just…leave it alone."

"Is that really what you want?"

"It's what she and I agreed to do. Stay away from each other. So we are."

"You're miserable, Emma. It can't be the right thing if it makes you feel this awful."

Emma laughs humorlessly at that. "Regina said the opposite to me the day she let go of Robin. She said she knew it was the right thing to do because she was miserable." She picks up an onion ring and then tosses it back down. "Well, I'm miserable."

"Regina's not exactly the most optimistic person ever born."

"Maybe not, but -"

"You're miserable," David says again. "Because you're unhappy. And you can do something about it."

"No," she answers sharply. "Now, please...please, just drop it.

"Okay, fine. But...what about...you and Regina, you were friends –"

"We but were, sometimes as much as you want to, you can't go back again. Sometimes you have to let go of everything." The sadness is so thick now, the heartbreak too much and he wants so desperately to hug his little girl but her arms are around herself.

Like she's protecting herself from everything. Keeping everything locked inside.

Safe and secure and guarded away from anything that might hurt her.

Even the things that are meant to hurt at least little bit – such as love.

"And sometimes you have to fight for…everything," David insists.

"No," she says, but he thinks she's talking about a hundred different things.

"Emma –"

"Please. Just…be my deputy for a minute and not…not my dad, okay?"

He nods his head. "Whatever you need from me, Emma. Always."

It's not until he's gone that she realizes that he hadn't actually agreed to her request to stay out of this. At least, not in words that would have left his agreement beyond a doubt. She sighs loudly to herself and wonders if she cares if he interferes.

And thinks that though it may technically be easy to stay away from Regina and away from what they had so very recently had together, she really doesn't want to.

* * *

"So you and my daughter," David announces loudly as he steps into the Mayor's Office. He's grinning ear to ear and part of him knows that he shouldn't be because if Emma is hurting over this then Regina most certainly is as well, but he's trying to tell her something right off the bat –he's trying to tell her that he knows the truth about them and he isn't interested in her lies. Not when they're about Emma.

"What was that?" Regina murmurs, glancing up from a thick stack of paperwork on the desk. He takes a moment to look her over and yeah, now that he is, he can see the exhaustion in her eyes, bags beneath her eyes covered up by makeup; he thinks that this has clearly been pulling at her just as much as it's been pulling at Emma.

"I have to admit; I never would have put you together. Not like that, anyway."

She shakes her head. "Charming, what the hell are you on about?"

"You and Emma were together. As lovers."

Her eyes widen comically for a moment and he thinks that it's rather amusing how much she's changed over the time that they've known each other. Not long ago, she would have absorbed these words without flinching, but not so much anymore.

Now, the truth is written in pained strokes of bright red hurt all over her face.

She blinks and the surprise is gone, but the sadness is still there. "I don't –"

"She told me. The truth about the two of you, I mean. She told me."

"Oh. Well." She laughs at that, but the sound is humorless. "That's ironic."

"How so?"

"You probably think that I'm the one who screwed things up, yes?" she asks as she stands up and crosses over to him. She takes the folder from him and goes through the motion of looking through the paperwork, her eyes never settling on the words.

"She said you just wanted different things."

She chuckles humorlessly at that. "We do. What I want, she can't give me."

His head cocks to the side, the strange pieces of this story starting to slot together, starting to make a painful kind of sense – perhaps the worst kind of it. "Which is?"

"It doesn't matter."

"She said that, too."

"Then listen to her and let it go. I can't keep having this conversation."

"Henry?" he asks.

"Yes. Operation Stubborn Mules."

"Stubborn Goddamn Mules," David puts in with a small smile.

"Right. And yes, of course I knew that he was plotting to try to get us back together; he's Henry and no matter how old he gets, he will always believe in the Charming Family Love Always Wins Credo. But he's wasting his time on this one. It won't work. The reason that Emma and I are apart isn't because we actually want to be…" her eyes close. "I think…I can't believe I'm having this discussion with you."

"But you are," he reminds her, earning him a glare which he chuckles at.

"Yes, well the answer remains the same. Emma and I are no longer together because we want different things from each other," Regina tells him again and he thinks it strange how much both women have been repeating themselves today, like they're trying to convince themselves. Like they're trying to make sense of so much madness.

"Sometimes you have to take a chance on love, Regina."

"I know. I…I did."

"But she won't?"

"It's our business," Regina reminds him.

"If you love her –"

"It's not enough," she answers, blinking away what he's certain are tears. He sees her brush her fingers past her eyes, and it's a practiced motion, but he still sees it, and maybe it's because this is hurting her so much, but she's not overly effective at hiding all of her pain. He doesn't say anything, though, won't make this even worse than it already is.

Still, he can't not push. "It's always enough, Regina. Love is -"

"No, no it's not. Maybe just having love is enough for you and Snow. But for Emma…for me…we've both gone through so much. We've both lost so much. But Emma, it's even worse for her. Because she sees herself as a curse to anyone she cares for."

"Neal."

Regina nods. "And Hook." She scowls when she says his name and no, she had never really liked the man and never thought him worthy of Emma, but that's hardly important now. What is important is what he'd been to Emma, and the lies that he'd told her -even the ones that he had never meant to tell her, but still had.

"Hook promised Emma that he wouldn't ever leave her," Regina reminds David, her voice shaky and emotional. "He assured her that he was a survivor and then he died in her arms. He told her to find happiness again and he died in her arms."

"Just like Neal did."

"Exactly. There's only so many times that you can open your heart to that. Robin…well, I let Robin walk away because it was the right thing to do. But he's out there somewhere. Hopefully happy with his…wife and his little boy. It hurt me, but…he's alive. I may not like what Emma chose as far as us. I might…" she frowns because her heart aches and she's not nearly as emotionally mature as the words she's speaking suggest that she but she thinks that if she loves Emma as much as she knows that she does, then she needs to respect the reasons for her retreat.

Or at least she needs to try to; late at night, she feels such anger and loss and so much hurt. And the bitterly inescapable feeling that when it's all boiled down to its most simplistic parts, she just wasn't enough for Emma to try to love again.

But this is David and he couldn't possibly understand all of this – he has never really had to lose as much as she and Emma have - so she won't try to make him get it.

"What do we do?" David asks, so sincere and heartfelt. So good and kind.

"Nothing. We respect her choices. And mine; Emma and I are over. And as much as I might wish otherwise, that's just…Emma doesn't believe in love, anymore and I can't say as I blame her. I think – I know – that there's only so many times that you can lose it all and try to rebuild before you wonder why you're even bothering. She looks at me and sees nothing but eventual loss and pain and heartbreak. She sees me hurting her again…I don't want to be that to her, David. I don't want to be fear to her. I can't. I wanted to be what she is to me, but I'm not that to her."

"Okay. But what about your friendship? You two worked so hard to build that."

Regina smiles sadly before saying, "The paperwork looks fine, Deputy."

"Regina –"

"I have a meeting with that asshole King Scar this afternoon and I expect it won't be a pleasant one. He's technically coming here to ask about zoning off something for some of his imaginary friends and he, but that's just a front for whatever other gross stupidity he's up to. When he's not suggesting that I marry him so that we can rule the world together, he's threatening me and well, it's usually rather difficult to figure out which part of him – sleazeball or dirtbag – I'm going to get."

He frowns at that; Scar (he's not a King anymore but insists on calling himself one) is not unknown to him – he's well aware of the disturbingly tall but skinny man's awful habit of manhandling women and issuing unsettling threats." I could stay."

"I'm still the Evil Queen, Charming and I am still more than capable of taking care of myself. Go away." There's humor in her tone, and perhaps a bit of fondness as well. Because so much has changed between all of them and he is family now.

"Okay," he agrees. "But for what it's worth –"

"For what it's worth," Regina interrupts, her voice emphatic and clear. "I love your daughter desperately. And I miss her more than is safe to admit to, but I refuse to lose myself for anyone. Even even her. Not ever again. Emma made her choice and I made mine, and mine is that unless I can have all of her, then….it has to be over."

"All right. If you need anything –"

"Thank you." She touches his hand for just a moment, just long enough to let him know that while she doesn't welcome his help, she does welcome his kindness.

He nods, offers her one more smile - so warm and meaningful (and gods she hates how easy it is for him to smile like that sometimes, and sometimes she doesn't) and then he turns and leaves, the door clicking shut behind him. When he's gone, when the room is quiet and empty again, she falls back into her chair.

She doesn't cry –she's done more than enough of that and she's all out of tears.

She looks at her phone, and doesn't reach for it. Because what is there to say?

She can't back down, can't go back to pretending.

So there's just this – a job that she can do without thinking about it and a family that keeps her strong even when she feels anything but strong and a hole in the middle of her heart that she has to learn to live with whether she wants to or not.

It's not the first time she's had a hole in her heart, and managed to survive it.

So, she'll find a way.

She always does.

 **TBC…**

 **:D**


	5. Five

**Warnings** : Language, violence and okay, a wee bit of angst. Just a wee.

* * *

The former King of the Pride Lands (by deceit and by death, and she supposes she can relate, unfortunately) is a tall lanky man with entirely too many tattoos and piercings running the length of his heavily scarred body. He might have been handsome a long time ago, before he'd spent so much time in exile thanks to his murder of his brother and attempted murder of his nephew, and perhaps he might have even been ruggedly attractive were it not for the perpetual scowl upon his face. But this is Scar and he's never exactly been a good man (or beast as he had once been; the movies aren't exactly right on about him or his story, but they're not that far off, either). Here, she had renamed him Paul Wexton. Or at least the curse had. A completely generic name without any kind of regal standing to it.

She'd long ago realized that the curse had a bit of a nasty sense of humor to it.

Likely some kind of hybrid bastardization of she and Rumple's damaged wit.

Scar had, of course, thrown that insignificant name off the moment his memories had returned to him. He'd reminded anyone who would listen of his standing and expected something to come of it. When he'd been snarkily reminded (in the middle of a town-hall meeting filled up with high and mighty cut-throat former royals) by Emma that he'd been defeated by a flatulent warthog, he'd thrown something of a spectacular tantrum, sworn she would pay and stormed away. And he's been a complete pain in the ass ever since.

Today, he's proposing marriage again, and perhaps it's the conversation she'd just had with David or perhaps it's the fact that her heart aches right now (she's not struggling with her choice because she knows that it'd been the only honest and respectful one available to her, but she does struggle with her empty bed, and sure, Emma had always left far too soon, but she'd still been there and some evenings, night had stretched into morning and there'd been little to no divide between the two – just time in Emma's arms and it all sounds so young and silly, but she craves Emma's touch like it's some kind of addictive drug), but whatever it is, her patience is extremely thin and she stops him halfway through his misogynistic and awful declaration of intent. "No," she snaps out at him. "And enough of this, Scar. You're a reprehensible lunatic – and I was the Evil Queen so I think that should indicate how grotesque I find you. I would sooner cede this office over to that asshole George before I would even let you take me out on a date."

He smiles at her, but it's cold and mean, and because he's not a man with a lot of experience with actual women (certainly not ones he can't instantly control), he's unable to hide his anger at her. "Regina –"

"Your Majesty," she growls back. "Remember your place."

"Oh, but you're not the Queen here," he reminds her with a smirk.

"And yet you that's exactly what you want me to be, isn't it, Scar? You want me to be the Queen again so that you can be my King. Right? Tell me, if you were my…King…what would you like to do to me? What would you have me do for you?"

He lifts his chin and looks at her, his eyes glistening with a kind of crazed malice. "Oh the delicious things that we would together. But first, you would need to be brought to heel; a woman like you would require a firm master and...discipline."

She laughs directly in his face at that. "No wonder you had to murder your brother to get a woman. Let me give you a hint - _Paul_ \- the women in this land aren't like the ones in our old ones; they're not interested in being ruled by worthless mutts like yourself. Nor am I."

He growls at her, his teeth bared and for a moment, his eyes go dark yellow and she thinks that he might actually attack her. But then she's lifting an eyebrow and showing him her hand and reminding him that here in this world, he's just a worthless man and she's far more powerful than he will ever be. Here, he couldn't go two rounds with most of the men in this town and she still has her magic.

So he backs down and tries again.

"You're making a mistake. We could be…impressive together."

"The only mistake I made was in agreeing to take this meeting; I knew how it would go. And I'm done. Now get out before I find out what lion actually tastes like."

He stares at her for a long moment and then lowers his head in what is surely meant to be a show of submission (she thinks that it had probably worked on his brother who had wanted so badly to believe that Scar could one day learn to be a worthwhile part of the pride, but not on her). "Of course," he agrees. "After all, I should have known that you would refuse me; I'm not really your type, anyway."

"No, I can't say that I'm into having relations with furry beasts," Regina concurs, turning her back on him for just a moment (long enough to irritate him and remind him that she thinks very little of him) before turning back and looking right at him with open disdain and then saying in a tone full of dismissal. "Not really my thing."

"I meant men," Scars says, something unmistakably crude in his oily tone.

"You're hardly what I would call a man. Even if you are technically human now."

He snarls at her again, but then catches himself and pulls himself back, like he's trying to make a point here. "Oh, but, Your Majesty, I can smell her all over you."

"I have no idea what the hell you're talking about."

"Swan. I can smell her scent on you."

Regina huffs at that, "No, you can't." And it's true because it's been weeks since she and Emma have been together, weeks since Emma's kissed her or they've touched in any way that would have allowed the blonde's scent to be on her.

"Not now, but before. Every time you walked into a room, I could smell her lingering on you; the smell of her _touch_." He leans in, making sure to highlight the lascivious nature of his words. "And even now, my Queen, your heart, it beats faster –"

"First, don't ever call me that. I am not _your_ Queen. And never will be. And second, get the hell out of my office."

He laughs at the anxiety that has suddenly shown itself. "The Evil Queen in love with a woman. How…revolutionary. How beneath you. If only we were back in our world – the one you stole us from – where there you would be –"

"Yes, well, we're not there. As I said before, it's a new world, you flea-bitten mongrel."

His nostrils flare. "I am a King."

"You're nothing," she retorts, stepping into his space. "Now leave my presence."

"You will show respect, bitch," he growls and then he's pushing forward and grabbing her around the throat and squeezing it hard as he slams her roughly against the wall behind them. When he realizes what he's doing, he seems as surprised as she is furious about it, but he hardly has time to reconsider before she's blasting him backwards, glass shattering as he's thrown through the doors.

"You will not _ever_ touch me," she says, her own eyes blazing with fury and pain.

"No," he agrees, low and submissive, and then, like the cowardly lion that he once was instead of the man that he is now, he's slinking away from her, humiliated.

Because everyone that had been outside the office is now staring at him and watching as he crawls away from the Queen. Like an insignificant scared mouse.

"Madam Mayor?" her secretary asks once he's gone. "Are you all right?"

Regina lifts her hand to her neck, to the tenderness and the bruises that are sure to be there now. She frowns at the pain that she feels. "I'm fine. Just…I'm fine."

"Should I call Sheriff Swan?"

Her first instinct is to say absolutely no to that, but this isn't her first tangle with Scar. He's an impulsive weasel who has no problem with using violence and manipulation to get what he wants. In this world, he has no status and is considered to be even weaker and more pathetic than he was when he'd bene Mufasa's cowardly little brother. Here, he's not even the over-looked runt of the pride.

Here's, he's no one and that's always been more than he could handle or tolerate.

She doesn't fear him Scar all, but she is the Mayor of this town, and she supposes that she owes a duty to inform the Sheriff of any and all threats – even ones that she doesn't personally consider to be such in any real kind of way. "Yes, call Miss Swan and ask her to…ask her to send Deputy Nolan over to take a statement."

* * *

Emma has never been especially good at listening.

Actually, she's pretty goddamned wretched at it. And the moment that she'd been told that someone had attacked Regina, she'd been up and out of her chair, in motion before David could even think to remind her that Regina had specifically requested him. Not that he really has a problem with Emma going over instead.

Because she's been ranting at him non-stop for the last hour about how he really needs to stay out of her love life and how she has everything under control, and he doesn't recall actually saying anything to have set her off one way or another.

Okay, except for maybe: "So I talked to Regina". And maybe, "She misses you."

Oh and he might have added, "She loves you, Emma."

That was probably foul play, but his daughter's heart is hurting terribly right now and staying out of things has never been his way; it's clear to him that Emma wants to be with Regina (he almost laughs at this because if someone had asked him a year ago if he would have supported a love affair between Emma and Regina, he would have asked them if they'd been drinking something) and it's only her fear that is stopping her from being happy. He tries to understand (even he knows that he can't really because what he and Snow say to each other about always finding one another has always come true for them and there aren't a row of tombstones out there to haunt them as they do Emma) but what he knows and believes is that life is short and love is incredibly precious and when you have a chance to have it and hold on to it, you owe it to yourself to do whatever it takes to do exactly that.

That's what he has always believed and as he watches Emma rush from the station (she tells him to stay, tells him that she can handle this, and he thinks that this is about how she needs to see Regina herself and without worrying what others will think), he hopes that there will come a day when his little girl believes it, too.

"Regina," Emma breathes as she rushes in to the office, stepping between Regina and her secretary as they both stand just to the side of a small pile of neatly swept up glass (she sees that Regina is holding a broom in her hands). "Are you okay?"

"Where's David?" Regina asks immediately and it's a bit of a slap to the face.

"Not here. I am," Emma tells her unnecessarily, her face flickering with hurt for a beat before smoothing into something calm. As she stares at Regina, daring her.

"So I see," Regina drawls, side-stepping that power-play with ease (well, it's more a stubborn refusal to play along and that's just annoying). She turns to her secretary and hands her the broom. "How long until Maintenance is here to fix the door?"

"About an hour, Ma'am."

"All right. Why don't you go get lunch? I'll debrief the Sheriff."

"Yes, Ma'am."

Emma at least waits until her secretary is gone before she reached out and pulls Regina into a tight hug, holding their bodies close enough together so that they can both hear and feel each others' heartbeat. A second passes - charged and thick and entirely too much - and then another and then Emma, as if finally realizing what she's doing and what it's leading to, says with a small laugh, "Debriefed, huh?"

She shouldn't – Regina certainly knows better and this is just about as juvenile as it gets – but she finds herself chuckling in response because the one thing that Emma has always been good at doing is getting her to find humor in absurdity. Sometimes it's childish and so far beneath a woman of her breeding and education that it's shocking, but then perhaps that's why she enjoys Emma's humor as she does.

Because it is – in a nutshell - everything about Emma that she loves – the realness and the honesty and the unrefined rawness of who she is and what life has made her into. She's a street rat and even if it sometimes breaks her heart (like now when Emma's past has made her too afraid to seek out a future) she adores her entirely.

"Focus, Sheriff," Regina gently orders, her dark eyes twinkling just a bit. She extracts herself from Emma and puts a few safe feet between them. Just to be safe.

"Okay," Emma agrees as she steps across the room and looks at the door. "So should I focus on your door which looks like someone got thrown through it –"

"Someone did."

"Or the bruises on your neck?"

"That's why he got thrown through the door."

"That creep Scar?" Emma asks, a small growl in her voice. Emma's certainly had her fair share of run-ins with Scar. Especially after reminding him of his cartoon past.

"Your father told you?"

"He mentioned it. Told me he offered to stay."

"I don't need your father's help dealing with that in-bred hairball."

Emma steps closer to her once again and then lifts up her hands, tracing her fingers over the bright vivid fingermark shaped bruises that she sees there. She feels anger surge within her, and for a moment, it's almost suffocating in its intensity. There's always been something about Regina – there's always been a fierce inexplicable need to protect her. It's stronger now, though and she has to close her eyes to force back the deep emotions that are bubbling within her; the desire to pull Regina so very close and to never let her go. She knows that she has to get back in control.

Because nothing has changed.

Besides that she's starting to realize what the emotions within her actually are.

Still, every reason why she couldn't give in a few weeks ago is still there today.

Every nightmare that has kept her away still haunts her as it did back then.

And she's added a few new ones – all of them featuring Regina – to that playlist.

"Emma, I'm okay," Regina says gently, fingers sliding over hers and moving them away from the bruises. Her hand stays connected to Emma's, though, like she's not quite willing to let go of her blonde lover just yet. Like she never wants to let go.

She'll settle for holding on for a few more seconds, at least.

"Yeah…yeah. You…uh, you want me to arrest him for assault?"

"Hardly necessary; I assaulted him far more than he did me."

"Still. He attacked you. And you are the Mayor. That really can't be allowed."

Regina rolls her eyes.

"At least come down to the station and make an official statement."

"I'd really rather not."

Emma inclines her head like she's about to agree, but Regina knows better (she knows this woman too well, and really, she wonders what had she been expecting when she had agreed to have the sheriff's office called over to take a report).

"Yeah, I know you'd rather not. And I'd rather not have to tell our kid that I didn't do anything about the guy who put his hands all over you. Now, I might be wrong but fifteen-year-old boys? Not usually okay with their mom getting hurt."

"Underhanded and cheap, Swan," Regina notes with a shake of her head.

"I was thinking more like clever and devious," Emma replies smugly.

"That all depends on what you're up to."

Emma's face changes from one of satisfaction with herself to something more like deep worry and concern. "Nothing more than making sure that you're all right."

And that makes Regina's own attitude soften. "I'm fine. Really."

"Maybe, but…I don't like you bruised up or hurt." Her fingers trail up again, lightly grazing over Regina's neck. "You can't blame me for having an issue with it."

Seeming almost frantic, Regina moves away from her (away from her touch and her eyes and the intensity of that gaze) before saying, "That's not really your…"

"I get to worry about you," Emma interrupts, the tenderness in her voice almost too much to resist. She's so earnest and her eyes are so loving and Regina finds herself struggling with everything that she so desperately wants; it would be so easy to give in and to just fall back into Emma, but she knows better. She knows.

"No, you don't. You made your choice. And I accepted it. I accepted it, Emma."

"I'm still your Sheriff," Emma insists, her voice soft and unsteady.

"You are," Regina allows. "But –you're not…we're not -"

"I know that I hurt you. And I know that you're angry with me –"

"I'm not. Angry, I mean. I understand."

"But you are hurt."

Regina smiles softly at that. "Does the statement have to be made right now?"

That sounds loaded and probably is. She might be taking about the statement over whether or not she's hurt or she might be talking about Scar. She probably means both. But for the sake of professionalism and the pain in Regina's eyes, she says, "No. It can…you can come by later." She shrugs. "When I'm not around."

"That's probably for the best."

"We really are never going to be able to get back to being friends, are we?"

"No," Regina says, tears wetting her eyelashes in a way that makes Emma's chest hurt. "Because I will always want more from you than what you can give me."

"Right. I'm sorry."

"Please. Stop saying that. It…doesn't help. It doesn't." Her hand lifts up and she touches Emma's cheek, sighing when she feels the way Emma moves into her, so instinctual and wanting and yet still so unwilling to give. "Emma, go. Go before I refuse to let you leave me, before I refuse to try to understand why you need to."

There's a brief moment - a quick pause in all of this unwanted hurt - when she thinks that her blonde lover will ask her to do exactly that, but then Emma is nodding. "Right. I'll…I'll tell David to expect you." She allows her own hand to flicker up for a moment, her fingers against tracing against the horrible bruises there.

"Emma," Regina says, her hand against settling over Emma's.

"Yeah?" God, she sounds so hopeful. Like this might all suddenly be okay.

But it can't be.

Because they can't go back to what they had been no matter how much they both want to, and there doesn't appear to be a way for them to go forward, either.

So there's just this and the goodbyes that they need to say.

The goodbyes that they can never quite say no matter how much they intend to.

"Thank you for coming to check on me. It…thank you." She moves Emma's hand away from her neck and just does stop herself from bring it up to her lips, the romanticism of such a gesture overwhelming. Instead, she simply steps away.

I'll always be there for you when you need me. I hope you know that."

"Not always."

Emma swallows and then bobs her head in reluctant unwilling agreement.

Regina doesn't watch her go. Refuses to do it again.

But she does listen to the sound of Emma's boots on the floor and then the sound of the door to the stairs being yanked open. She hears footsteps heading down.

And it's just as she's turning away from Emma and all of the thick suffocating emotions and want and desire and just plain need that she feels, that she hears it.

A loud horrendously pained cry, the sound of something falling and then silence.

Just… _silence_.

 **TBC….**

 **:D**


	6. Six

**Warnings** : Some very mild angst, slightly less mild violence, a bit of language and some uncomfortably sexually tinged aspects (not a full assault by any stretch) related to what Scar does to Emma; he's a creep.

Also, mentions of previous relationships for both ladies. Sorry, but they're still relevant (for now). :D

* * *

The only thing Emma Swan knows is that she needs to get out of this building. She's running away as usual and God, she's always running these days, but she thinks if she doesn't get away from Regina right now, then she's going to turn back around and offer the older woman every bit of her heart (she thinks that even if Regina doesn't realize it, she's already holding more of it than Emma had ever expected to give her when they'd started this "arrangement") and part of her…part of her isn't as scared of that as it should be.

Part of her wants to do exactly that.

But the rest of her thinks about the nightmares which plague her and the blood on the grass that she sees when she closes her eyes and worse than that (she's gotten used to the dreams and they will never not ache, but there are still worse things), is the fear she has of something happening to Regina. And all because the Queen had stupidly dared to fall in love with a person whom everyone leaves eventually…and oh, Emma can still hear, the "try again next time, Swan".

In fairness, Neal and Hook hadn't said it quite like that, but that's kind of what it's gotten to feeling like after going through this so many times (and none of them, she knows, would be like losing Regina who has somehow become more than just a lover to her, but also partner in so many perfect and imperfect ways), she wonders why even bother again? Why tempt fate to destroy her again?

Because yeah, it's gotten to feeling a bit like she's just aimlessly spinning the wheel of life and love (and never-ending loss) and then holding her breath and waiting.

Waiting for the wheel to fall off again and for everything to crumble to dust.

So she's running and she knows it but she has to get away because back in that office is a woman who has been through so much with her and it would be so easy to take a chance on loving again with Regina. It would be so easy to think about all of the times they have been stronger together than apart and doesn't it make sense to keep going?

Regina had claimed that they had never made sense, but that…that's not exactly true, is it? No…no, it's not. They make sense. Perhaps even too much sense. The kind that's frightening because deep down, Emma knows that they could work.

They could work and they could be happy and maybe even happy five years from now until…until something terrible happens to Regina and it's all gone again.

Until she's alone and there's nothing for her except being alone.

And still…and still part of her wants to turn back around so very desperately.

Part of her wants so very much to spin that goddamned wheel once again.

Emma growls at herself (and her stupid heart which never seems to completely learn the lessons that it should) in frustration and shoves the door to the stairwell open, her boots clicking loudly on the metal steps as she descends them. It's when she'd down one flight and just reaching the darkened platform below (she makes a mental note to let Regina's secretary know that the lights need to be replaced down here) that she starts feeling an itch at the back of her neck. Some kind of red alert.

She turns around and looks up at the stairs, her heart pounding as she wonders if Regina is in some kind of jeopardy. What if that idiot Scar who had assaulted her just an hour ago had returned for her. What if Regina is being hurt up there and she's down here wondering about whether or not she can love the woman when if she's honest, she already knows the answer to that? What if -

It feels oddly cold at first. Like something is separating her muscles from her bones with a block of ice. But it's not ice and the cold very quickly gives away to a flash of red hot pain as a long sharp blade is shoved into her belly and then pulled out, the sociopathic carelessness of the gesture causing the wound to tear even further, sticky blood that overwhelms her nostrils with the smell of iron spilling down her stomach and onto blue jeans. She cries out – more in shock than in pain because every nerve ending she has is screaming and she can't make sense of any of it.

Emma lets out a soft whimper, something like a choking sound as her body twitches beneath the sudden bolts of agony which are running through her. He legs suddenly feel as though they're boneless, and she can feel herself starting to crumble.

Just as she's pitching forward, her knees buckling beneath her as her blood flows out of her, she feels fingers suddenly grip her neck and then her attacker – smelling like dirt and sweat and body odor that has seldom been cleansed away – leans into her, runs her tongue over her skin (she shudders at this and thinks about the many times she's been touched in ways she didn't want, and the battles she's fought to own herself) and then roughly bites above her pulse point, blunt teeth sinking into her flesh. When he pulls away, he says, "It's a shame you had to be the one to be the message, but someone needed to remind the Queen who the actual King is."

Emma's mind is spinning, whirling and twisting around, unable to focus on anything besides the horrific pain that she's in, but then he's letting go of her neck and shoving her and she's falling down, her body tumbling down the stairs to the next landing, finally coming to a stop within a bloody heap just at the foot of the steps.

She hears footsteps as he follows after, sees him move above her, peering down at her with uncomfortable interest. His hand touches her cheek before a finger dips into the blood on her neck. He brings it to his lips and then leans in and kisses her cheek. Even as week as she is, she struggles and tries to get away from her, dark and terrible thoughts filling her mind. But then he says, "Don't worry, lovely, I will make sure to take care of the Queen; she will never want for company ever again."

"Regina," Emma gasps (it probably doesn't even sound like that, but even as everything is fading away from her, she has a desperate need to reach out for the woman that she…that she loves. That she is so deeply scared for even right now).

"Is mine. You let her go." He chuckles. "I thank you for that. But she might not."

"Don't you-" she tries to surge, but even the moment is too much and then the darkness is seeping inwards. She hears the footsteps again, sees a flash of light above her, hears the creaking of a door opening as her attacker escapes, and then…there's just blackness everywhere as her life begins to bleed away from her.

* * *

It's the pained cry that makes Regina rush from her office – if it'd been just the sound of something falling, she might have (probably not) assumed that some staffer was playing around on the stairs or had tripped down them – but that sound of hurt and the fact that Emma had just left her mere moments before and…and the feeling that she has deep in her gut that something is very wrong (very wrong with Emma and no, no it can't be…it simply can't be)…it makes her move quickly.

It makes her shove the door open and race down the stairs even in her high heels.

And then for just the briefest of moments, she stops. Because there's blood all over one of the landings and against the very white walls, too. "Emma," she whispers.

She screams Emma's name a moment later when she looks down and sees her lover's body slumped a few steps down from her, on the platform. Not moving. Just lying there. Like maybe it's already too late. Like maybe…she's already…gone.

* * *

Emma thinks that she must have lost consciousness for a few moments; that's the only thing that makes sense because one moment she'd been hitting the ground after she'd been thrown down the steps and then the next, her attacker had been over her, touching her and threatening to hurt not only her (well, he'd already done that) but Regina as well. Fear streaking through her as hot as her pain, she tries to cry for help, but her voice won't come out as more than a whisper. Her hand settles over the massive wound in her belly, but even she knows that she's doing nothing to slow down the flow of blood out of her; if help doesn't come soon (and what's the likelihood that it will?), she'll be long dead before anyone finds her body.

This really isn't how she'd expected to go out; a strange thought, she thinks, to be having at the moment because who in the hell really worries about the how when the end is screeching towards them. Still, she'd thought that considering her dual job as Sheriff and Savior that if she were to fall in this town, then it would be during battle with some kind of bizarre fairytale creature or another. She'd always thought that if it were to happen, it would be while she was standing beside Regina, both of them extending their hands outwards to protect the people that they love most.

Her parents. Their son. Each other.

Though, she muses as her vision continues to swirl, perhaps that requirement to be defeated by a fairytale bad guy had been met considering the fact that she has a fair idea about who had just gutted her. And why (it terrifies her that he might carry out his threat and try to go after Regina, but she reminds herself that Regina is tough and strong and she will certainly turn him into a furry orange rug for this).

Oh good, actual gallows humor.

And Regina. Who is suddenly above her, a hand on her neck and then on her face.

Wait, Regina?

"Emma."

Oh, right. Of course Regina is here with her right now. Because, as Emma remembers, letting out a choked laugh of desperation, she's dying. She smiles sadly slightly, and thinks that at least her mind isn't going to let her die alone today.

Regina wouldn't let her die alone, she reminds herself. She wouldn't.

"Hi," Emma whispers. "I missed you."

"We haven't been apart long," Regina replies, her hands traveling first over Emma's face and then lowering. "Emma, I need you to look at me. Look at me, please."

"I am." And so she does. It's funny but this Regina looks exactly like hers. But scared in a way that Emma really hates to see. Regina's crying, upset and Emma can't stand it. "Hey," she mumbles. "It's okay. Don't do that, okay?" Her hands lifts, then falls.

"Stop…just..." Regina's eyes close for a moment and she looks like she's about to break down, but then her eyes are opening and she's saying, "We need to get you to a hospital where they can help you. So I'm going to call for help. While I'm doing that, I need you to hold my hand against your wound; I can't heal all of this – it's too much and there's…but I think…I think maybe I can slow the bleeding down."

"You're so beautiful."

"Emma. Focus. Please."

"You know I love you, don't you? You know that, right?"

"If I say that I do, will you please hold my hand against yours. Emma, please?"

"I'll do anything you want me to do. Especially if you keep saying 'please'."

"Okay. Okay. Good." Emma feels a hand slip into hers, and for a moment, it confuses her because the touch feels so very real and Regina's hand is wet and sweaty and that seems an odd detail for a pain induced hallucination, but then she's feeling this sudden warmth and it's terribly hard to think all that deep. Because everything hurts, but there's this wonderful numbness there, too.

"I love you," she says again, her sleepy eyes finding Regina's. "I always have."

* * *

Gasping, Regina practically flies down the stairs, nearly tripping over her own high-heeled feet as she stumbles to a screeching panicked stop next to Emma's collapsed body. The first thing that she sees is the bright red streak across Emma's abdomen, a large gaping wound unmistakably there, Emma's hand just barely covering it.

The next thing she sees is the gory bite mark on Emma's neck, the skin roughly torn away, like someone had bit her as a rabid animal would but with human teeth.

But it's Emma's breathing that brings air back to her own lungs – it's the sound of choked pained life coming from Emma that reminds her to allows herself oxygen.

It's faint and gasping, and gods Emma is clearly in so much agony, but she's still alive, and that's more than just something - right now, it's absolutely everything.

"Emma," she says desperately, leaning in and pressing her hands to her lover's pale ashen cheeks, her fingers turning inwards and pressing, needing to feel warmth.

Stupidly, the girl replies with an almost shy, "Hi."

She tells Emma that she's going to call for help, but also try to heal her as much as she can, but then Emma is babbling about how beautiful she is and how much she loves her and no, this is not the time or the place for this. Because if it's either of those things, then it might be the end for them and it can't be the end. It can't be.

Because for all that Daniel and Robin and others have meant to her over the many years of her life (and they both meant so very much to her in the days that she was able to spend with them; she will always carry the joy of their love for her – and hers for them - and their losses with her), no one alive has meant what this stupid stubborn idiot of a woman has to her; no one has even been the partner Emma has.

And in so many ways, Emma is her chosen one. In every way, perhaps.

She's the one person besides her son that Regina trusts with her heart.

Even after all of the madness and heartbreak of the last few painful weeks. Even after the hurt of feeling like she's not enough for Emma to take another chance, she still knows that she would trust Emma with her life without a bit of hesitation.

And her heart…well, it will always follow.

But now…now there's just so much blood and Emma is mumbling about love.

No.

 _No._

She dials for David and screams (her voice breaking) over the line at him to get help and get it here fast; he listens for once, hears her tone and doesn't ask questions. Just tells her to hold on. Tells her they're on his way. She thinks that he means for her to stay on the phone, but she drops the cell and returns her hands to Emma.

"I love you," Emma manages suddenly, sounding almost drunk. "I really do."

"I know you do," Regina tells her, blinking away tears. "And you can tell me again – and again - in a few hours. When you're out of surgery and drugged up and I'm so angry at you for getting yourself hurt and nearly dying…you can tell me then."

"I thought I was going to lose you. I let you go because I thought you'd end up hurt for loving me, and then I was going to end up losing you," Emma says, her words falling over each other. She's nearly incoherent now, her voice just barely an agonized breathy whisper, but Regina listens and hears and doesn't stop paying attention no matter how much she has to focus. Because Emma is clutching at her hands and even though there's so much blood, she is still holding on tight.

Still being Emma Swan and refusing to stop fighting.

"No," Regina assures her. "I had no intention of ever leaving you."

"But you did."

"No, you left me. And you're trying to do it again. Don't."

"I don't want to. I don't want to die."

"Then don't."

"Is it that easy?" Emma asks, tears streaking down her face as she grits her teeth as she lets out a cry of pain, the nerves in her body firing fast and reckless now.

"It is," Regina tells her and it's a lie, but she has to believe that it's not.

"Okay," Emma agrees with a lazy smile. "I won't."

* * *

She feels Regina's hands press lightly against hers, a golden glow circling around her belly. The pain is still there, but it's slightly less and that's still something. But her head, it's swimming and there's so much darkness at the edges of it. She feels practically drunk and somewhere in the back of her mind, she knows that that's due to the massive amount of blood that she's lost. She can't move at all, can't even think beyond very simple words. She thinks that's she really is about to die.

And if she is, then she needs to make sure Regina knows; has to make sure Regina understands what this has been. "I thought I was going to lose you. I let you go because I thought you'd end up hurt for loving me, and then I was going to end up losing you." The tears are burning in her eyes and she needs Regina to hear her.

To really listen and realize that this has never been about a lack of love for her.

Because really, the only reason that she'd ever been running away from Regina had been fear. That and the realization that her heart had already given itself up without her permission; those had truly been the only reasons that she'd been hiding from Regina. How ironic, then, that she's the one about to get a tombstone.

But then Regina is pleading with her not to leave, and she knows better than to lie. She knows better and still, like an addict who can't say ever say no (and yes, Regina is her addiction and always will be and she doesn't mind a bit), she finds herself assuring Regina that she won't leave her. "I won't," she replies, smiling up at Regina with suddenly bright eyes. Her hand lifts and she touches Regina's cheek, smearing blood across it. "Because you and me, Regina, we got us a big old story to tell."

"Yes, we do," Regina agrees with a pained heartbreaking smile, a hand settling over Emma's on her cheek before she brings them back down to settle over the wound again. "And you have apologies to make to me, Emma. So many apologies. For letting this come between us. For being a fool. For scaring me like this. But I'll forgive you all of that if you just...just …don't leave me. Please. Don't leave me."

"I love you," Emma says again.

"I love you, too, you precious fool," Regina states. She has Emma practically in her lap now, the younger woman's head rested against her, her own body bent over Emma's as she continues to push magic into her. She bows her head down, and then her hair is falling over Emma in dark curtains and there are tears, so many hot tears. Her hands are still glowing, but her shoulders are shaking fiercely, trembling.

"You'll stay with me?" Emma queries, coughing and then wincing.

Regina lifts her head and their eyes are meeting; it's hard because everything is fading away and she thinks that there are lights somewhere in the distance and no, she doesn't want to see those.

So she focuses on Regina because even now the Queen's power captivates her. Even now, with the shadows collapsing in on her, Emma finds herself lost within Regina's dark honesty and charisma. "Always, Emma. But I need you to promise me the same. I need you to promise me that you'll stay with me. I need you to promise me that you'll wake up and come back to me."

"If I promise, will you be here when I wake up?" Emma presses.

"I'm not leaving you ever again."

"Then I guess I have to wake up, yeah?"

"Promise. Promise me, Emma."

"I promise."

Her eyes close.

 **TBC…**

 **:D**


	7. Seven

**Warnings** : A really brief mention of Hook. Some language. And a wee bit of angst.

* * *

"Hey," he says, catching her elbow as the dark haired woman starts to move away from him, attempting to follow after the paramedics and the stretcher that they're carrying Emma on down the stairs. There's so much movement occurring around her, and it's making Regina anxious and afraid (more than she already is, anyway). But then there's David, and his hand is on her (his touch is noticeably soft, undemanding). "Wait," he insists. "There's nothing more that you can do for her and they're not going to let you go with her."

"You act like I was going to ask those idiots for permission," Regina snaps back.

"Those idiots are trying to save the life of someone that we both love. So how about we let them do what they need to do."

She spins on him, her eyes glittering darkly, reminding him for a brief flicker of a minute of a different woman entirely – one whom he hasn't seen in several years now. There's a bit of madness dancing around back there and he thinks that he should probably be terrified of Regina in this moment, but he's not. Because he understands what she's so afraid of; he gets it. "You think I'd get in the way?" she asks and he feels his heart ache for her because she's not issuing a challenge to him so much as she's voicing some kind of fear (perhaps a fear she has of him and his perceptions of her) that she could be in some terrible way detrimental to Emma.

"No. Regina," he says softer. "I'm not saying anything…you stayed with her –"

"I will always stay with her," Regina replies and then inwardly flinches because that sounds too much like Snow and David's cloying true love statement that they always toss carelessly around – like only two people who have truly always found their way back to each other can. And they can because it has always worked out. They haven't had to live like she and Emma have – with so much terrible loss.

"I know. But now we have to let the doctors help her. You did what you could." His head tilts. "I am curious, though - why didn't you just poof the both of you to the hospital?"

"My magic tends to go haywire when I'm...this upset. It wasn't a risk worth taking; I could have killed her in the effort of -" her voice chokes off into something of a half sob, but before he can react, she roughly shoves it away, trying to steel herself again.

And not quite succeeding.

"Regina," David starts to say, clearly intending to reassure her.

But she wants none of that. "You're too calm," she accuses. It's a reckless accusation, but she needs someone to feel the panic that she does, the explosive fear that's running through her blood.

"No," he replies. "No, I'm not. I'm scared out of my fucking mind." He smiles humorlessly at her when he says this, aware of how seldom he curses. His mother had never been fond of it and his always drunk father had been too fond of it, but now…now seems like the right time for such words.

Because when he'd come racing up the stairs with the paramedics right behind him, he'd seen a bloodied Emma lying unconscious in Regina's arms, his daughters' chest just barely rising and falling with each labored breath that she'd been taking. And Regina, well he had seen her bent over Emma's form, her shoulders shaking as she'd been trying to keep herself in control and failing, the entirety of her coming apart. He'd seen one of Regina's hands clutching one of Emma's, his daughters' blood-stained fingers laying limp in Regina's unyielding grasp, not moving at all.

"I don't know what –" Regina starts and then stops because there are no words to express the deep nearly uncontrollable fear that she's holding within her heart right now. She looks down at her hands, both of them spotted with Emma's blood. "She promised me," she finally manages to get out. "She promised me she'd wake up."

"Okay," he says softly. "Then we have to believe that she'll keep that promise."

"Because you have hope?" she answers, a flash of irrational anger flaring up.

"No," David replies. "Because it's Emma and she always keeps her promises."

She inhales sharply and then exhales with just as much effort, not knowing what else to do but to just and breath right now. Faith isn't something that she has ever had a lot of (she never has, and imagines that no matter what happens in her life good or bad, she never really will), but right now, she finds that she desperately needs the one thing that she has always hated (and envied) about the Charmings.

Their maddeningly unrelenting and irritatingly unbreakable faith and their at times nauseating belief that everything will always work out for them. Weird how she finds herself almost recklessly gravitating towards that right at this moment.

"I need to call Henry," Regina says finally, her voice thick and low and painfully choked with emotion as she thinks about telling her (their) son that his other mother might die today. It's too much and yet…yet, she knows that she has to.

Because she had promised him no more lies. She had promised him the truth.

"And I need to call Snow." He looks down at his phone. "She's been calling me."

"Mothers always know when their child is hurt," Regina comments, almost absently. She's looking down at her hands, frowning at the blood she sees there.

Trying desperately not to think about how she'd stood above Emma when she'd been holding Hook's body in her arms, his blood staining the green grass bright red.

"So they say," David replies, pulling her back to the present. There's a pause and then he reaches out and takes her hand. She looks up at him in surprise and confusion – it's hardly the first time that he's ever touched her (he'd touched her elbow just moments before), but there is something personal about this. Like for a moment they're sharing the fact that someone they both love is in terrible jeopardy. "Emma promised you," he reminds her.

She looks down at his hand, his fingers between hers, Emma's blood staining them red, and finally, she nods her head. He responds by squeezing their hands for just a moment and then he breaks away and starts down the stairs. She glances back down at the splatters of crimson which are all over the floor and walls and then reminds herself again who it is that she's worrying about right now.

 _Emma Swan._

The stubborn woman who had refused to bend to the will of an Evil Queen.

The same one who had become the Dark One and still come back from it.

The fool who had made her a promise to help her find happiness.

And the idiot who had better damn well find a way to keep that promise.

Regina turns away from the blood, turns away from the pain, and follows David down the stairs.

All the while doing everything she can to pretend that she doesn't see Emma's blood on them.

* * *

"Who did this to her?" Henry demands, his fifteen-year-old voice cracking angrily.

"That's unimportant right now," Regina states, and thinks about the deep tearing bite mark on Emma's neck. She's leaning against the wall in the waiting room, a cup of now completely cold coffee in her hands, staring at the closed doors ahead.

"I know the way you sound when you're really upset, Mom. This isn't unimportant. So who did this to her? And why" he presses, and she can hear him moving and knows that he's leaving school; she'd already told him not to, but had also known even when she'd said it, that it'd been wasted breath. She hears someone say something to him, and recognizes the voice as Snow's and thank the gods for that.

She almost laughs (however crazy inappropriate that would be to do at this moment) because the idea of being thankful for Snow's presence, well just a few years ago that would have been an absurd thought. But now, just as David had offered her the comfort of family and shared fear, Snow gives her the knowledge that sometimes things can go from terrible to something wonderful. Snow gives her the understanding that even when everything breaks down, it can still be fixed.

Snow had taught her that it's never really too late to try to forgive…and to heal.

So yes, she's quite thankful for Snow in her life - especially now when she's close to Henry and hopefully keeping him from doing something reckless and stupid.

"Henry," she replies. "All that matters is that you get here; Emma needs us."

"She's –"

"Holding on, sweetheart; your…your mother is holding on."

"She's going to be okay, right?"

There's a pause as she glances at the closed doors again, the ones separating her from Emma. She should tell Henry the same thing that David has been telling her; she should faithfully remind him of Emma's stubborn habit of keeping promises.

But she and Henry have been through far too much together and come too far for such easy lies. "I hope so," she says simply, her eyes closing for a moment.

Because the doors haven't opened and every minute that passes frightens her.

"We're on our way," Henry tells her. "And I want the truth when I get there."

"Maybe," is all she'll give him.

She doesn't say that she can't give him the truth because if she does – if she starts thinking about how this had happened and who had done it to Emma - instead of thinking about the condition that Emma is in, then she'll turn and walk out of this building and when she returns, Scar will be over her shoulder as a throw-rug.

She feels the Evil Queen slithering around in her mind, a hissing urge to make Scar pay for this. She feels the worst of herself stirring about, demanding retribution.

Demanding vengeance and -

But then a door is opening and Whale is coming out and nothing else besides what he's about to say to them (about Emma, just Emma) matters for the moment.

"Victor," Regina calls out sharply. Her voice gets David's attention (he's been over by the candy machine for the last ten minutes, just staring vacantly at it, his own phone that he'd just hung up clutched tight within his fingers). He turns and heads over, standing shoulder to shoulder with Regina, then, staring expectantly. "Well?"

"We're far from out of the woods with Sheriff Swan," Victor says quietly, looking from Regina to David and then back again. "We're not even done with this part of the process yet, and there's still quite a lot of blood and damage that has to be negotiated and dealt with, but I figured that you would want an update on her."

"Yes," David replies immediately, inadvertently taking a step forward. "She's –"

"Alive. And she's staying strong. He…hurt her quite badly and I won't lie to you and say that her recovery from this – assuming that she keeps fighting and holds on - won't be an absolute nightmare for her, but thankfully he didn't pierce any of her vital organs and the biggest thing we're chasing down is blood and tissue damage. If we don't run into anything that we're not expecting, I think our chances of pulling Sheriff Swan though this are…well, she'll have a chance to recover."

David lets out a breath, a hand collapsing over his pounding heart.

But Regina – Regina who never quite believes, who can never quite stop assuming that the floor will stop drop out from under her – says, "You're sure? You're…there was so much blood, Victor. She lost so much blood down there. You're…sure?"

"She did. She lost a hell of a lot of blood, you're right," he agrees. "But you slowed it up. You gave us time to help her through this, Regina. And we're using it."

Regina gulps and then blinks back the tears threatening to fall.

"When will we know more about her condition?" David queries, his hand snaking out and catching hers once again; it's the second time today that he's taken her hand and offered her comfort and strength, and it's still strange to her, but this time she doesn't even consider resisting - this time, she lets him be strong for them.

Like father like daughter and she kind of wants to kick him for it.

Or maybe hug him.

But both actions would…probably be a little bit strange.

"Not for a bit," Victor answers. "But…Sheriff Swan is fighting. Tooth and nail."

"Promises to keep," Regina murmurs.

"The bite?" David asks.

"Swabbed for DNA and already sent to the lab."

"We know who did this," Regina murmurs.

"We do?" Victor asks.

"Not yet," David replies, and he's not countering Regina so much as that he doesn't want to create more panic than there already is; half of Storybrooke had watched Emma being loaded up into the ambulance and that's already too much gossip.

Victor nods at that even though he doesn't know what David means by it. He offers a small thin smile to both of them and then turns and heads back through the white doors. They swing shut behind him and it occurs to Regina just often she's seen doors closing between she and Emma. She tells herself then that this will be the very last time. If Emma's promise is kept today, she's never letting her go again.

* * *

Snow and Henry arrive in a flurry of motion ten minutes later and then Henry is in Regina's arms and Snow is in David's and there's just a brief moment where there's only the quiet of finding comfort in the safest of places, but then Snow is pulling back and David is updating her and Henry is staring at the doors just as Regina had.

"Henry?" Regina asks after a long moment, her voice a bit shaky still.

"You have blood all over you," he notes.

"I –"

"You said she was attacked."

"She was," Regina allows, having already told him that much.

"Why?"

"I believe that someone was trying to get to me. Maybe get back at me."

"Someone always is."

Too tired to resist the anger in his voice, she flinches at that, and for a moment, her face contorts into something miserable and hurt. She should know better, she thinks, be able to control her emotions more, but her heart is aching and she is still so afraid and now her beloved son echoing every one of her worst thoughts and –

He slams into her suddenly, his larger frame wrapping around her, and then he's hugging her once again; it's unexpected and the motion of it almost knocks both of them down. Distantly, she thinks that she hears Snow say his name in shock (or had she said that after his harsh comment to her?), but all she can feel is Henry's strong arms around her and all she can hear is how he's apologizing to her over and over.

"Henry," she whispers, clutching at his coat, her knuckles white with exertion.

"I didn't mean it." He buries his head in her shoulder. "I can't lose either of you."

"You won't. Victor says that she's fighting and we know Emma never loses a fight."

He looks up at her, tears in his green eyes. "Momma?" Pleading, frantic, needing.

"I expect you to be deeply irritated at both of us for making you blush," she tells him as she holds him closer, a hand in his thick messy brown hair, It's an outright confession to Henry (and to Snow who doesn't look nearly as surprised as she should look considering the words that are being said right now) of something that had otherwise only been hinted at. But she's smiling at him through his own tears and saying, "Because I'm not very good at letting the people I love go and when we get her back home, I plan to ensure that she is never far from our side again."

"I can deal with that," Henry insists and then wipes his nose off on his shirt and steps away, like he's suddenly remembering that he's fifteen-years-old instead of ten and has to be more of an adult than this. "I'm sorry," he says to her once again.

"You have nothing to apologize for," she says, then reaches out and brushes hair away from his eyes. Because his age is irrelevant to her; he's always be her little boy. No matter how big and strong he gets, he will always be in need of protection.

"I don't like either one of you hurt," he tells her. "I'm sick of people hurting you."

"I know." She leans forward and hugs him once again. Putting everything into it.

She doesn't tell him that she would have forgiven him even if he wasn't sorry.

But she would have.

She always will.

* * *

It's almost midnight when Victor finally comes out again; he looks as tired as they all feel, but he smiles when he catches Regina's exhausted eyes, his expression weary, but honest – the look of a man who has fought a bloody war and somehow won it. "Miss Swan is going to be all right," he says with a soft chuckle of triumph.

"She is?" Snow asks, the question perhaps unnecessary and yet entirely so.

"She is. We'll obviously keep her here…at least until the fear of clots or anything else that could disrupt her healing is over, but…well, I think we got lucky that Scar doesn't seem to understand how to use knives as well as he understands teeth."

"Scar?" Henry repeats, sitting up in his chair. "As in that pervy Lion King creep?"

Whale's eyes jump to Regina and then David and Snow and then back to Henry.

"Uh no. Not him. Sorry, long day. I misspoke," he claims, and then quickly moves on as if he hadn't just revealed who Emma's attacker was. "She's going to be in considerable pain for a few weeks, and I don't think she'll be doing crunches anytime soon…but, Emma is going to to be chasing Pongo for long time to come."

Regina exhales. "Can I…can we see her?"

"Briefly. I think she's sleeping, but…sure."

He starts to move off, but she quickly moves to his side, catching his arm.

"How did you know who did this to her? We didn't – how did _you_ know?"

"Because right before we put her in her own room in the ICU, she was awake for a few minutes, mumbling about…well, a lot. And she said his name when I asked who had done this to her. She said she'd thought, but well, it kind of makes sense."

"Yes, it does," Regina allows. Then, frowning a bit, "Victor."

He looks right at her, an eyebrow arched.

She nods at him, too much history between them for it to all be swept away.

"One of the things she kept mentioning was a promise to you."

Regina's eyes close and she swallows. "She promised me she'd wake up."

"She did. You have five minutes. And then no more visitors." He turns and walks away, then, heading down the hallway towards where the private offices are.

Regina comes back over to a curious David and Snow and Henry (she notices that he's seething and makes a note to herself to talk to him as soon as she's done checking in on Emma). To David and Snow, she says, "I suppose you'd like to –"

"Just let us say goodnight to her," Snow suggests, smiling at Regina in an almost annoyingly knowing way. "And then you can have the rest of the time with her."

* * *

Henry offers to go with his grandparents to see Emma, suggesting that she might like a few minutes alone with his other mother. It's a bit of a strange offer for him to make, she thinks, but she's too tired to think too hard on it or to refuse it.

Instead, she waits against the wall just outside of the private room (they're in the Intensive Care Unit, and Emma likely will be here for at least several days, but everything is calm and quiet and were it not for the bandages and the beeping machines, it might even be easy to not worry about any of this) and listens as Snow and David talk to a presumably still unconscious Emma (sleeping, she's just sleeping), telling her how much they love her. Henry chimes in as well and then there's the sound of shuffling feet as they all come out. "Go ahead," Snow says.

"You're not surprised by any of this, are you?" Regina asks.

"You mean what's going on between you and Emma? Of course not. I know my daughter, Regina, and believe it or not, I know you as well. You two have been looking at each other for a very long time like you just…get each other. If you think about it, if you think about you and Emma, well then it makes a lot of sense."

Regina chuckles in annoyance at that and almost rolls her eyes, but getting close to Emma means more so she chooses to put off this very weird discussion with Snow for later. She squeezes Henry's shoulder and smiles at him as if to remind him that it had all worked out for the best and then she moves inside Emma's room.

She hears Henry say something about needing to go to the bathroom, and David is talking about getting coffee, but then everything is just fading away from her.

Because it's just she and Emma now and as she looks down at her sleeping lover, and takes in the hideous hospital gown that covers up her bandaged abdomen, and the thick gauze that's wrapped around the tears on her neck, tears fill her eyes.

Because Emma's complexion is pale and ashy, and there's an angry bruise on her jaw (she'd likely gotten it and others during the tumble down the stairs) and the white tape wrapped around her is blinding and nauseating, but…she's alive.

She's alive, and gods, yes that's what matters most.

"Oh, Emma," Regina whispers and drops down into the chair next to her, her body landing without any of the grace of a Queen. "You incomprehensibly stupid idiot."

"I love you, too," she hears, and it's really more of a drugged up mumble. But it's definitely Emma and when she looks up, there are pained green eyes on her.

"Emma."

"I made you a promise," she practically sing-songs out as she meets Regina's eyes for just a moment before her own close again. "I always keep my promises."

"Yes, you do," Regina murmurs and then leans forward and presses her forehead to Emma's, holding it there and feeling the proof of her life flowing off of her.

She's warm, and it's fever, but it's her body fighting, and refusing to ever give in.

And behind them, a monitor beeps out the steady rhythm of Emma's heart.

 **:D**

 **TBC...**


	8. Eight

**A/N:** Slight language, mentions of Hook in the past tense, talk of the Dark One days...and mild angst.

* * *

She stays with Emma for far longer than Victor would like her to, but he's smart enough not to outright ask her to leave. Maybe it's because she's just sitting next to her lover's side, her hand gripping Emma's, her shaky fingers occasionally lifting to press against the pulse point in Emma's wrist even though the heart monitors behind her continue to beep steadily. Or maybe it's the nearly broken look in Regina's eyes, the realization of how close she'd come to losing everything all over again. Whatever it is, Victor does no more than knock on the door of the room and nod at her in an attempt to remind her that she really should let Emma rest now.

Which is enough for her to get the message. Slowly. Another minute passes, though, before she rises up, leans down again and gently presses a light kiss against the top of Emma's head, the smell of Emma's familiar shampoo wafting up and giving her comfort. She says so very quietly, then, "I will never lose faith in you."

Emma's eyelids flutter violently in response for a moment, but don't open.

With a sigh, Regina reluctantly turns and heads out into the hallway where David and Snow are talking, their voices higher than they probably should be, but it's late so it's not like there are a lot of people around to overhear them. She glances around for Henry, but doesn't see him standing anywhere in the vicinity of them.

"Where's Henry?" she asks as she approaches.

"Bathroom," David replies. "And a bit of air. I think seeing her like that was –"

"Hard," Snow finishes for him.

"Of course," Regina agrees. And doesn't correct them with the word "impossible".

No matter how true it might be.

"We're sure that Scar did this?" David queries.

"Whale said Emma told him that he did," Snow reminds him.

"But she's pretty out of it," David reminds them both. "And Emma was on her way over to check in on you after Scar attacked you. So it's possible that –"

"I'm sure it is possible, but in this case, I'm fairly certain that it was that overgrown hairball. He threatened me earlier today by putting his hands on her neck," her fingers flicker up to the bruises that are still there, bruises that she'd forgotten about and thankfully none of the others had noticed (especially not Henry – gods, thanks for that, at least). "And then Emma gets attacked in the stairwell and bitten in a rather possessive and fairly animalistic way? I'd say that it was definitely him."

"Why? Snow asks. "Why did he attack you and then why Emma?"

"The latter is obvious, I'm afraid," she answers with a frown, glancing over her shoulder like she thinks someone is back there. There's no one that she sees, but still, the hair on her neck is prickling. "To get back at me. As for why, well he asked me to marry him again and to be his faithful obedient _bitch_ so that we could control the town or something idiotic like that and I…declined."

"Declined?"

"I may have told him in less than kind or gentle terms where exactly he could see fit to shove his tail," she deadpans. "He obviously didn't take it well which is why he attacked me; I didn't take that well and threw him through a door." She knows that her tone sounds deceptively flippant, but it's late and she's tired at this point. The only thing that matters is the only thing that she is really thinking about: that Emma is okay.

Tomorrow…tomorrow, she'll worry about Scar.

But for tonight, she just wants to be close to Emma. Close enough to ensure that no further harm comes to her and to remind Henry that everything is…

"Wait," Regina says sharply in as she looks around the room again, that feeling that someone (Henry) was just there (and heard). "How long has Henry been gone?"

"About twenty minutes" David admits with a frown as he, too, follows her gaze around the room. "Since about the time we left you in the room with Emma. Why?"

"And how long have you been talking about Scar and what he did? Out here?"

"Regina," Snow cautions, shaking her head.

"There's a man out there who just tried to gut his mother."

"He needed fresh air," David insists.

"No," Regina replies. "And I'm pretty sure that even if he was just getting air, he's not now; pretty sure he overheard us." She turns and walks down the hallway.

"Regina," Snow calls out again. "It's Henry."

"Who is a fifteen-year boy that has become fiercely protective over both Emma and me. He's not a wide-eyed ten-year-old anymore, Snow; Henry has been to Neverland and he's had his father die. He had to watch Emma nearly –" she shakes her head pushing back bad memories of Emma's time as the Dark One. She pulls her cell out of her pocket and hits the button for his name, listening to the rings as she says, "He has nearly lost his family countless times over the years. And…he's my son and has my anger and my need to protect what I consider to be part of me."

"Is he –" Snow asks.

Regina shakes her head in frustration, then hangs up the phone and stares directly at David and Snow. "No. He's not picking up. We need to find him. Right now."

"Regina, wait. Wait a minute. What is it exactly that you think he'll do?" David asks her as they match Regina's frantic pace towards the giant swinging doors that lead from the Waiting Room to the ambulance bay and the parking lot just outside.

"I don't know and I don't want to find out." She turns then. "Emma's gun."

"No," Snow says, her voice an expulsion of panicked air as her eyes widen with terror. Because despite her words, she does know. "No, he wouldn't. Regina -"

"Stop saying my name like that and stop trusting your own idea of perfect goodness. Try trusting my instincts on this one for once," Regina snaps back at her. "You and I both know, Snow, that when people are upset they do horrible things."

"Emma's gun should still be in the glove compartment of my cruiser. Out in front of the loading bay." David answers finally, his voice grim. "I put it there after –"

She nods. "I'll go check on it." She starts to move again and then stops and looks from them to the swinging door behind them, the ones which hide the room in which Emma is slumbering, too drugged up to defend herself. "One of you –"

"Needs to stay with Emma," Snow agrees. "David."

"I don't –"

"David," she says again, her voice softer and far more emotional. "Protect our little girl." She places a hand on his lightly bearded cheek and looks into his eyes before smiling kindly at him. Like she knows what he wants to do. But also knows how to make him understand that what matters more than action is being here for Emma.

"I will," he promises. "Regina –"

"And I will do what I have to do," she replies and then she's on the move again.

* * *

It's a somewhat strange sight to see: Regina bent over and into David's cruiser, her ass slightly up in the air and her dark hair falling around her in turbulent waves as she pushes through the many papers in his glove compartment. It's even stranger because she's been doing it for several minutes now. Finally, "Henry has the gun."

"Does he know where Scar lives?" Snow asks, not questioning Regina's certainty on this. Snow keeps her voice measured and calm because Regina looks like she's about to have a complete meltdown and someone needs to be calm. Not that it's entirely working, to be honest; she's still terrified for her daughter and now she's scared for her grandson and for the woman who has become like a sister to her.

She can see the threads unraveling inside of Regina's mind and if the threat to Emma wasn't already enough, the one to Henry assuredly will be. She considers mentioning the fact that Regina still hasn't changed out of the clothes that she was wearing earlier – the professional ones that are still streaked with Emma's blood (she'd reluctantly agreed to place a gown over her clothes when she'd gone in to see Emma but now she's unguarded and Snow can see both Emma's blood and the dark bruises that are marring Regina's slim throat), but chooses not to mention it.

Because there are more important things right now.

Things like a very upset Henry Mills wandering around with a gun.

"Everyone knows where he lives," Regina replies. "Or at least everyone knows where he likes to hang out. He's a creepy old man who thinks that he's charismatic and influential so like all perverted trash, he hangs around that lovely little Youth Center that Emma insisted on opening up." She scowls deeply when she says this.

"Which on a night like this –"

"Is open until two in the morning. I told Emma such late hours were a bad idea."

"She didn't listen," Snow observes.

"She may have distracted me in the middle of that particular argument," Regina admits as she reaches out for Snow's arm. Considering the implication of her words (and Snow's slightly traumatized expression of "I'm her mother!), this isn't a conversation that is all that appropriate for the amount of fear for her son that she currently feels, but it's a lot lighter than her heart and even if only for a second or so, she figures she needs that. Because God knows what they're about to find.

"Are you poofing us over there?" Snow asks, an eyebrow up.

"I'm going to try to."

"Try?"

"As I told your husband a few hours ago, poofing when I'm upset is not always the smartest idea. But in this case, I think we should be fine as long as I concentrate," Regina answers with a shrug as she lifts her hand up in the air.

"Regina –"

"Shut up, Snow. Take a deep breath and don't vomit on me." With her free hand, she swishes through the air and then there's a blast of cloyingly thick purple smoke.

* * *

"I'm going to stay here – in the room - with Emma until they get back," David tells Victor, and though his voice is low, he's not really leaving much room for argument as he sits down beside his sleeping daughter. If not for the gauze around her throat (and the bruise on her jaw), it'd be easy to pretend that she's not too terribly wounded, but he thinks it might take him the rest of his life (and then some) to forget the terror that he'd felt when he'd stumbled up the stairs to see Emma unconscious in Regina's arms, blood spilling out of her and her face slack and pale.

He'd really believed her dead for a moment.

Lost once again.

"All right," Victor sighs because the Charmings and Regina seem to share more in common than even they realize these days - including stubbornness and a dangerous protective streak that he has no real desire to run afoul of. With a shake of his head, he turns and leaves. Once the door is closed, David leans over and brushes hair away from Emma's eyes, allowing himself a moment to look at her.

He hadn't gotten to see her days as a little girl or her teenage rebellion (and sadly, he admits to himself that neither of these were any kind of normal for her here in this world) but he's gotten to know adult Emma and though sometimes it's still strange to realize that she is his daughter and the same age that he is, it's not at all difficult to love her with everything inside of him. She's so much like her mother, he thinks, and knows that Snow would say that she's so much like him instead.

Neither of them had had a hand in raising her or turning her into this woman.

That had been Emma. She had made herself this strong beautiful woman.

One with a heart that's always a little bit broken and a wounded soul that's always been a bit sensitive. Now, both the heart and the soul are just a bit more damaged.

He remembers the troubling and uncertain days after she'd completed her transformation into the sharply angled pale-skinned Dark One and how frightening those had been for everyone including him. He recalls the first time that he'd seen her after her transformation and how she'd looked so very little like the young woman he'd gotten used to finding raiding the Cocoa Puffs at two in the morning.

But most of all, he remembers the end of all of that – the last of the Emma as the Dark One days - when she'd stood above Regina with the older woman's heart clutched in her hand, fingers pressing into the black (but more red now) organ even as Regina had gasped but never begged. Instead, with tears streaking down her face and Henry screaming behind them, Regina had looked up at Emma and said (though she'd barely been able to speak by then), "I have faith in you, Emma. You."

They had and have always been drawn to each other like magnets, but David wonders if that was truly the start of things for them; had Regina refusing to lose Emma's eyes and continuing to believe that she could beat the darkness inside of her been what had started their whole love affair? Had it planted the seed of it?

"You know both of us might have been better off staying away from the fire. Your mother might not look like it, but she was her own kind of dangerous. The Queen's most hated enemy, pursued by every bounty hunter in the kingdom. And she was pretty good at pissing people off, you know. But I was already in way over my head. I knew even then that I should have gone the opposite way and not fallen into your mother, but we follow our hearts right into things – even the most explosive of them - don't we?" He smiles sadly. "That is until your heart gets broken too much."

It'd been just weeks after the whole nightmare with the Dark One had finally ended when they'd ended up going against yet another set of monsters hell-bent on destroying everything, and this time, one of those monsters had taken something from Emma that she could scarcely afford to lose. Still reeling from her own guilt and self-loathing and the unspeakable deep depression of her actions, she and Hook hadn't been back together. David had sensed some kind of reservation from Emma in starting up again with Hook at all, but they'd been talking and Hook had been trying as best as he could to understand her need for space and time.

Then there had been a scream and Hook had been crumpled like a broken potato sack in her arms, his bleed seeping down onto the grass below. Not as a lover any more but as a friend and his eyes had dimmed while he'd been telling her to be happy.

Once again, someone had been leaving her as they'd been telling her to be happy.

It's no wonder that she'd run away from the chance of that with Regina.

But Regina is different, David knows. Even he knows that Regina is the one person that Emma has always trusted even when she didn't realize that that was what it was between them; even when she wouldn't call it trust, it'd been there all the same (he thinks of a handed-over dagger and the chilling words "destroy me" – words that Regina had tried to meet the burden of, but failed simply because she had refused to lose faith in Emma, had never stopped believing she could beat the darkness, and eventually, Regina – and Snow and even he - had been proven right).

So yeah, suffice it say, there's always been some kind of unique understanding between the two of them. Some understanding deeper than most would realize.

Maybe even them.

Now, he thinks, now's it time for his little girl to stop running; everyone has to.

Eventually, everyone - even those who have sinned and done unimaginable things - has to forgive themselves enough to allow themselves to be happy and content.

He takes Emma's hand in his, fingers weaving between them (the blood has been cleaned away now, and he's so thankful for that). "When your mom was pregnant with you, I used to have this dream…daydream, I don't know, where I'd just be rocking you in my arms and you'd be playing with my hands and giggling and even just dreaming, it was the most…wonderful perfect thing, Emma. You are that to us. I hope you know that. I hope you know that anyone is lucky to be in your life."

"Dad?"

"Yeah," he says, his smile brightening. "Emma."

"You're crying," she says softly. Her hand lifts up as if to touch his face before her side stretches and she immediately drops her arm down, wincing a bit in pain.

"I'm…no. I'm…I'm okay."

"No, you're not. What's wrong? Regina, is –"

"Is fine. I promise. She just stepped out for a moment with your mother," he says and hopes the drugs will fog up her lie detector; she doesn't need to know what Regina fears (he hopes to hell she's over-reacting on this). "How are you feeling?"

"I hurt," she admits, her voice choked with pain.

"Yeah," he says as he starts to stand. "I'll see about getting you something-"

"Don't go," she pleads.

"Okay. I won't go." He sits back down again, his hands finding hers.

"I don't want to be alone."

"Never," he promises and then places his other hand over the two of theirs that he previously joined. "No matter what, you won't ever be alone again." A moment passes, and then with a soft smile, he adds, "But as for what's inside you head as far as Regina goes, all I can say, baby girl, is it's time for you to follow your heart."

"I love her," she mumbles out, her eyelids sagging.

"Well then, you have our full support. It's still odd to me the idea of you and Regina, but I think that your mother has known about the two of you for awhile now. She didn't tell me anything, of course, but…I think that she knew, and is all for it."

"Moms always know when their kid is up to something," Emma replies and then blinks a couple times like that should probably mean something more important than just being about she and Regina. But then the moment passes and she's wincing in pain as she turns, the stitched up tear in her side stretching once again.

"Easy," David prompts. "I'm going to call Whale. And you're going to sleep."

"Sleep. Okay."

"And Emma? I'll be right here when you wake up. We all will be."

"Promise?" Her hand tightens around his, almost panicked for a moment. He squeezes it back and then waits for her bleary eyes to find his own steady ones.

"I do. And us Charmings never break our promises," he reminds her.

"No," she agrees. "We don't. I didn't."

"You didn't," he assures her, his hand once again squeezing hers for just a brief moment before he steps away, moving halfway into the hallway - but not that far (he will destroy anyone who tries to hurt his child, and this he knows without a doubt) and motions for a nurse.

* * *

They hear the loud boom of a gunshot echoing almost the moment they poof into the alley behind the Youth Center, the purple smoke clearing within seconds.

Regina's moving even before the sound is completely gone, Snow quick on her heels as they both turn the corner and come to a skidding halt with what they see.

Scar, standing there with his hands half-up, smirking in mockery.

A bullet lodged into the brick wall just behind the former lion's head.

Henry, upset and practically shaking from anger, standing across from Scar.

His mother's gun cocked and ready to fire again.

Ready to kill this time.

 **TBC…**

 **:D**


	9. Nine

**A/N:** Warnings for language, attempted sexual assault (of sorts), violence, and angst.

* * *

"Henry!" Regina screams, surging forward and then abruptly pulling herself to a stop when she notices the way Henry's hand is trembling. His face is pale and his are wide, and she thinks that if he knows what he's doing, it's only in the part of him that is disconnected from his mind. If he's aware of this at all, it's in his heart which is hurting and breaking from what he'd seen in Emma's hospital room. And what he'd likely overheard in the hallway.

"Mom," Henry whispers in reply, his voice breaking with emotion. "I've got this."

"No, baby, you don't. And you don't want to do this."

"I –"

"Look who finally showed up. The Queen and the Princess. Tell me, Your Majesty, did you appreciate my betrothal gift? Did you find it suitably…illuminating?"

"Shut up," Regina growls back at him, throwing an arm in front of Snow who has taken three large and openly aggressive steps forward. "Or I will kill you myself."

"Mom," Henry says again, tears streaking down his face,

"Give me the gun. And then I promise you, I will deal with this…flea-bag."

Scar hisses at that, the sound bizarre coming from a man and not a beast.

"He almost killed her."

"Almost? Well that's a shame?" Scar drawls. "There's always next time."

Regina snaps around, eyes blazing, fire in her palm. It's Snow that stops her this time, fingers settling lightly over Regina's wrist, but then tightening to hold her.

"I need to protect you. Both of you," Henry says suddenly, his voice low. He's staring ahead again, almost like he's snapped back into some kind of trance. "That my job. Because…that's what we do. That's what our family does. We protect."

"We do. But it is not your job to protect me. Or Emma. Not like this."

"Regina," Snow says suddenly.

"Not now, Snow. I want to know what a lion smells like when he's roasting."

"That's fine, but…but I think we have a bit of a problem," Snow insists.

"Of course we do. What now?"

"No, Regina. We have a really big problem." She gestures around and forces Regina to notice the lanky teenage boys moving towards them, their faces slack and eyes dazed. Somewhere in the back of Regina's mind, she feels a pop of awareness and recognizes that these are Scar's former hyena minions. The ones who hadn't tried to eat him apparently. She's never been quite clear on that part of the movie.

"Oh, did I tell you, Your Majesty, that I expected you to come looking for me? I knew my demonstration would attract you to me. And a Queen always knows where to find her King," Scar drawls. "I admit that I hadn't been expecting you to bring Snow White or your boy, but I suppose that both of them will serve as –"

"You are not my King –"

"I will be."

"Oh no. I already did that dance. So you can try, but it'll be over my dead body."

"No," Henry says, the gun still in his hand, his fingers tightening.

"And mine," Snow says, looking at Regina, her eyes dark and curiously turbulent for a moment as the impact of Regina's words lands on her and she surely thinks about a past that had destroyed so much for so long. They've never spoken about her father or Regina's marriage to him, and likely never will, but in this moment, it's all there for them and there's a second when all of the pain and hurt is on the surface.

But then it's gone – a flash fading into the shadows of the past; all of that pain and hurt has finally scabbed over and much of it has healed. The woman whom she had loved as a young child is family once again. Perhaps in more ways than she might have ever expected considering Regina's just revealed love affair with Emma (though Snow has known about the two of them for a long while now and has just been waiting for them to come forward with it; she had seen their clear affection for one another in the way that the two women had looked at each other when they'd thought no one was watching, seen it in the tenderness of smiles, the ease of particular touches and the calm that had drifted over both of them for a bit).

Snow means to protect Regina – and Emma – and whatever they have created (and whatever this weird family of theirs has created as well) at whatever the cost.

"A family united. How tender," Scar smirks. "You know, my brothers' family was united as well. And then I killed him. He was tender, too. And then I took his wife as my own." He leers at Regina. "Sounds rather familiar, doesn't it? My Queen."

"That a pathetic piece of garbage like you would need to resort to force in order to get a woman anywhere close to you? Much less naked with you? Absolutely. But enough of this." She swirls her hand and then she's suddenly jerking it backwards and before Henry can figure out what's going on, he's sailing through the air and into an open trash bin that's several feet away. He clanks into it loudly and she grimaces but then she's turning around and into the fight just as Scar and his pack move and then she has fire in her hands as she stands back to back with Snow.

"Bet you never thought this would happen?" Snow says with a small smile.

"Can't say that I did," Regina admits, lifting an eyebrow when she sees Snow pull a small knife from her waistband. Once a bandit, always a bandit apparently because upon a quick further inspection, she notes that's it's one of Victor's sharp scalpels.

"How about we hurry up finish these idiots off; I'd like to get Henry out of that trashcan and then get back to Emma and David. I want to see my daughter."

Regina nods sharply at that and then throws the fireball at one of the hyenas. What follows is frantic and undisciplined, fighting that is far grittier than Regina is used to. She has to abandon her magic fairly quickly thanks to the proximity and were these hyenas what they once used to be, that most certainly would have proved damaging or even deadly for her. But here, they're just lanky creepy teenagers.

Here, they're more annoying bark than killer bite.

Here, a spunky Princess and a resilient Queen make one hell of a team and can with frightening precision lay waste to a pack of insane little blunt-toothed sociopaths.

And do.

When it's over, they part from each other (she notes that Snow is cleaning off her blade) and Regina says as she watches two of the former hyenas run away, stepping over a wounded fallen friend as they go, "Well that takes care of that. Where –"

The words aren't even out of her mouth before Scar is on her, his arm wrapping around her already bruised throat in a grip that's far more than crushing. She curses herself for letting him sneak up on her, so distracted by the adrenaline from beating the former hyenas down that she'd lost momentary track of her surroundings.

"Regina!" Snow screams and it occurs to Regina just how often Snow calls out for her. Just how often they're pulled together by gruesome life and death tragedy.

But Scar is laughing and tightening his hold as he whispers into her ear, his tongue sliding over the shell of it, his body reacting horribly when she shivers in revulsion. "Your lover tasted so very good," he purrs. "Her blood so thick and rich in my mouth, her fear so full and delicious. But I must admit, my beautiful Queen, my favorite part of all was the sound of her flesh ripping and her crying out for you –"

There's a loud booming gunshot, the echoing sound of it louder than the first shot they'd heard when they had first arrived in the alley behind the Youth Center perhaps only ten minutes earlier. And then there's a gasp and Scar is crying out in shock as he falls away from Regina, his hand going down to his bloodied left leg.

"I would have shot you in the back if I didn't think the bullet might go through you and hurt my mother," Henry growls at him, walking towards all of them, debris in his dark hair, a smudge of dirt on his face, his green eyes blazing with a meanness that looks alien on him. "But you will not hurt either one of them ever again."

But he is the son of two women who have never been good at allowing those whom they love to be hurt. The son of two women who are capable of very dark things.

"Then kill me now, boy. Show me the killer that lives within you. Show us all it." Scar spreads his arms out and laughs cruelly, clearly not fearing Henry in the least.

"My son is not a killer," Regina hisses, her hand around her throat, the bruises there once again vivid. There's a bit of blood there as well, bright red against olive skin.

"He's your son; of course he is. He's the very worst of you. Or so he thinks."

She swallows, wincing at the pain of it.

"Tell me, Your Majesty," he practically hisses the words out at her. "What is it that you have between your legs that makes heroes fall down to worship –"

"Stop," Henry demands, a finger on the trigger.

And gods, this is so much déjà vu. From standing on a road with Emma and talking her down from murdering Maleficent's daughter and now this is her baby boy lost in the same terrible way. Her and Emma's baby boy. She wants to just take the gun out of his hand (thinks she should have earlier) but knows he needs to know.

That he isn't this. That he's not capable of this.

Emma had been.

She is.

Henry is theirs but he's not them.

"Henry," Snow whispers.

But he's shaking his head and tightening his grip.

So Regina takes a step forward. "Henry, this worthless pathetic half-beast is not worth it," she says. "He attacked me and Emma and he did it like the coward he is. He doesn't deserve to have a piece of your soul. He will pay for what he did and he will never see the light of day again, but it shouldn't be because of you. Please."

"It's my job to protect you and Emma," he says. "I'm the man of the house."

"Neither one of us need a man to protect us. We never have and we never will," Regina assures him. "We don't need or want that. We just need you. Our son."

"Don't listen to her lies, Henry. Think about what I was just about to do to your mother. Think about how I was going to rip her throat out and feed from –"

Regina flashes her hand and suddenly Scar's lips are sealing. His eyes blaze with indignant rage, but she ignores him. Knows this man thinks he's just antagonizing her, but doesn't understand or realize just how much Henry has gone through.

Doesn't realize that sometimes good people fold.

Unless someone stops them.

She vows that she will always be there to stop Henry from this kind of hell. She looks over at Snow, watches as Snow's points the knife threateningly at Scar, letting him know that she will hurt him if he tries to interfere again. Tries to hurt again.

"Henry, it doesn't matter what he was about to do to me. He didn't succeed."

"But he did succeed with Emma; she's lying in that hospital bed in pain and... and…look what he did to your neck." He shakes his head, his helpless misery clear. "I just…I'm sick of you and Emma being hurt. I just want you two to be happy."

"And we will be," Regina assures him. "But without blood on your hands. Emma and I, we are going to figure this thing out between us. I love her and she loves me, and we have both been idiots running away from it and from each other. But that's over now, sweetheart. And this needs to be over, too." She extends a hand to Henry and offers a small watery smile. "You're our son. This doesn't work without you."

"I'm here," he insists, his hands shaking.

"You'll go away if you fire that gun. And I don't mean to jail. I mean inside of you. If you shoot Scar, and take his life, where you'll go is somewhere that…I'm not sure you will ever be able to come back from. You're not me. You're not capable of this. Your hands are not meant to hurt." She shakes her head. "You may think this is protecting us or doing what Emma or I might do, but you're better than either of us. You're the best of both of us. I want to be happy, Henry. But this is not how that happens. I could never be happy if you hurt yourself to make that happen."

"Henry," Snow says suddenly, looking up from where she'd been glaring down at Scar again as he continues to struggle against the magical gag that Regina had put on. "We are going to be happy. All of us. This impotent creep doesn't matter."

"She's right, sweetheart. Please. Give me the gun. And let's go back to Emma."

"She looked so small in that bed."

"Emma will never be small." She smiles. "And I'm fond of Emma in a bed."

His face contorts from anguish to something like disgust and she smiles again.

"Better that visual than the one of you standing over the body of a…man that you just murdered. I have taken too many lives in my life, Henry. Too many to properly regret, too many to feel as much as I should about them. But that doesn't mean that I don't know everything that I did. I allowed myself to become something that I didn't want to be. So did Emma when she gave into the Dark One's manipulations. I hurt so many people when I fell and so did Emma. But you… never lost faith in any of us. Or yourself. You have always been exactly who you were meant to be."

"And who am I?' he asks, fifteen and still so very young.

"You're my son. And you're Emma's son."

"And my grandson," Snow puts in.

"You helped me find myself again. You helped me to find the best of myself. You helped all of us to find that. And you brought this family together. You're our – you're **my** heart." She puts out her hand again. "You're Henry. Just…Henry."

Tears flooding his cheeks now, he allows the gun to fall to his fingers and then she's grabbing it, refusing to give him a chance to reconsider. With a twist of her hand, she bends the nozzle of it (Emma can have a new one when she returns to work in a few months) and then tosses it away, immediately moving towards Henry and sweeping him into a fiercely tight hug, her tears falling. A few seconds pass and then Snow is echoing the embrace and for a moment, it's just this and their family.

Not complete, but strong even in it's smaller pieces.

A growl from below breaks the hug (the magical gag on Scar had loosened when she'd lost concentration), but then she's lifting Scar up even as he's lunging for her and she's slamming him violently against the wall of the alley, her hand clenching so as to crush his windpipe and remove the air from his wretched lungs. "Poetic," she sneers at him, her eyes turning black. "Considering what you've done today."

"Henry," Snow says quietly, darkly. "Go back to the hospital."

"Why?"

"Because your mother and I are going to make sure Scar gets to jail."

"You are?" Henry asks, his disbelief apparent.

"We are?" Regina echoes, looking over at her, the black clearing from her eyes.

Scar coughs and struggles for air.

"We are. Henry, we'll be right behind you. Stay with Emma. Don't leave her."

"You think –"

"I think she'd like to wake up to you," Snow says with a soft smile.

"You're not going – you didn't stop me from killing him so you could, right?"

"He's going to jail," Snow reassures him. "Alive."

"Go, Henry. And if Emma wakes up, tell her we're on our way."

He nods and then he's surging towards her and hugging her again, fierce and protective, his head dipped into her shoulder, his arms so strong around her.

Her little prince who sometimes is a man and who sometimes is still a boy.

When he breaks away from her reluctantly, she almost doesn't let him, but Scar is still struggling and the look on Snow's face – uncomfortably weirdly cold – demands her attention. She kisses him on the forehead, urges him away and then once he's gone, his footsteps fading, she turns back to Snow. "So what's your plan here?"

"He's going to jail just like I said. But maybe not the one that he probably thinks he's going to and can escape from. No, I think there's a room fit for a…King below the hospital. There, he can impress yourself all day," Snow says with a dark smile.

"I will get free."

"You won't," Regina assures him. "No one has gotten out of that little box until I decided it was time for them to be free. And you certainly won't be the first. Nor will you ever be free. So if I were you, I'd be considering my reading material."

"You can't do this. There are laws –"

"Not in my jungle," Regina growls and then swipes her hand, knocking him out cold.

"I couldn't let you kill again, either," Snow says when Regina looks at her.

Regina rolls her eyes.

"But I don't want to ever see his face again or I'll kill him myself for what he did to Emma." Snow's jaw clenches and for a moment, there's true murder there.

Regina recognizes the feeling all too well.

"I know," Regina replies, compassionate and angry and so very understanding. "So we won't," she continues after a few moment, a smile sliding across her lips.

"What do you –"

"He so badly wanted to be his brother? So much so that he killed him. Well, we should help him. If he wants the face of a King? Then he can have one." A flick of her hand and it's just a glamour but it's an easy to cast one that requires little magic (and a special potion that she can get from Rumple later on) to keep it running and in place. But it'll be Scar's own private nightmare. His own twisted version of hell.

His brother Mufasa's face (the human form - the curse had cruelly created that for Scar when they'd come over years ago) forever starring back at him from his own.

It seems like justice.

Maybe it's vengeance.

Either way, this is over now and her mind is back on what matters most.

On the two people who were enemies but are now family.

On the son who had taught her how to love again.

On the woman who makes her willing to chance love again.

On those whom she plans to never let go of again.

Never.

* * *

Henry's sound asleep when they come into the room, his wiry teenage frame hunched forward into his arms, his knees against settled his chest. It's clear that his body and mind and heart have been exhausted from the day, and now there's just the quiet of slumber to try to help get him through the high emotion of it all.

David stands up when he sees them, his mouth opening with so many questions, but then Snow (after stepping over to Emma's bed and then leaning forward and pressing a long kiss to her forehead and saying something like "I love you so much") is taking his hand and pulling him into the hallway to try to explain everything.

Once they're gone, Regina lowers herself into the chair next to Henry and to Emma's bed. She runs her fingers through his hair, and then turns to look at Emma.

Who is watching her. Sleepy, sore and wincing.

But her eyes are somehow still keen and knowing.

Still Emma.

"What did you do?" she asks with a grimace.

"Relax; the bastard is alive. But well away from us."

"Good. Henry? He's been upset."

"He was…worried. He doesn't take well to us hurt. But it's okay. He's okay."

"He did something?"

"He didn't. And he's fine. So that's not important right now."

Emma frowns at that, but then sighs, reluctantly lets it go, and asks, "And you?" Her hand lifts and she touches the bruises there, angry and darker than they'd been earlier, the imprint of one of Scar's fingernails pressed into usually perfect skin.

"I'm fine as well. I'll make these go as soon as I have a moment."

"You don't have to. I'm not -" she smiles sleepily, but her eyes are still sharp. "We all have our marks, don't we?"

"We do, my dear." She looks down for a moment, and then says, "I'm sorry that I didn't fight for you harder, Emma. I don't regret doing what I did - I needed to do it for my dignity, but...I regret that I let a single moment pass where you may have ever believed that I didn't love you as much as I do. I regret that I ever -"

"You didn't," Emma tells her. "I can read you like a book. I knew. It's why I ran."

There's a pause, and then softly, "Are you done running, Emma?"

"Are you?"

"I didn't run away from you this time."

Emma tries to nod but the motion is too jarring and she ends up having to control her breathing for a few seconds before she's able to speak again. But, then, "No."

"What does that 'no' mean? Does it mean that you won't run or –"

"No, you didn't. And no, I'm not going to run away again."

"You know we never had to do any of this dance. We could have just…" she shakes her head, affection in her eyes, You really are an incredibly stubborn stupid –"

"Hey."

"Idiot."

"You keep calling me that."

"It keeps being true. You're a stupid idiot. I have numerous examples."

"Do you kiss –" she chuckles, sounding just a bit drunk. "With that mouth?"

"Yes. You." And then she leans in and presses her lips to Emma's.

Light and chaste. And so full of love that it almost burns them both alive.

Strangely, walking into the fire has never felt more worth it than it does now.

When they break apart, Emma whisper, "But you have to promise and –"

"I promised you during your worst days that I would never lose faith in you. Even when you held my actual heart in your hand and were crushing it, I didn't. And when it wasn't my actual one…I never lost faith in you. You kept your promise to me and came back to me today, and I will keep mine to you. But Emma –"

"No more running."

"I love you," Regina says simply, her eyelashes wet. "And that's all I have."

"It's always been enough," Emma assures her as she reaches out and clutches Regina's hand. "It was me; I was scared that I'd lose you end up all alone again and…you're enough to chance it again. You're…worth any risk." She watches as Regina gets this look on her face, so young and happy and she doesn't know that there was another moment in Regina's life like this which had hurt beyond words, but this one clearly doesn't. This one is pure and right and so much that both of them have for so long wanted and Emma leans up in the bed and it aches so terribly but she feels the need to touch Regina, to kiss her and to just be close and –

"You shouldn't be doing that while you're hurt," Henry says. "Or in front of me."

"He's right," Regina notes, frowning when she sees the deep pain lines that have etched their way onto Emma's face and hears the monitors chirping out a warning about her elevated heart rate. "And we will have plenty of time to do that later."

"Because I'm happy for the two of you, I'm going to pretend you didn't say that."

Emma smiles at him lazily, her eyelids sagging; she's been fighting the heavy painkillers, needing desperately to see her family, but she's exhausted and worn out and everything hurts so much. She shouldn't be awake now and it's only her stubbornness keeping her so, but she'd needed to have these moments. She had needed to see her parents, needed to see Henry safe and needed to tell Regina.

Everything.

Regina had needed to know.

Now everyone does.

"Gonna have to get used to it, Kid," Emma drawls. "It's a love story. Ours."

She'd said this before, and apparently, she still means it.

Her eyes flicker closed, but her hand stays in Regina's, tight and secure.

And then Henry says softly, "Yeah, it is."

 **TBC...**

 **:D**


	10. Ten

**A/N:** Thanks for taking this voyage with me. Hope you enjoyed it!

 **Warnings** : Sex. Yeah. Heh. And a wee bit of emotional stuff...but the good kind!

* * *

It's three weeks later before Victor finally releases a still very sore and movement constricted Emma back to her house (or a house – yet to be decided - really). Of course, during that time, there'd been two attempted jailbreaks and at least one moment of a bloodied Emma staring up at the ceiling of the hallway while Regina and Snow had glared down at her. Thankfully, that had only lasted seconds if that – the reality is that it had probably only lasted a split second, but Emma admits that her mind has become somewhat dramatic after being part of this family for the last few years - before they'd moved to help her, but she thinks that she'd seen the Evil Queen for a few beats and that woman had been extremely pissed.

Crazy hot, but pissed as hell.

So wisely, she'd chosen not to mention how attractive she'd found Regina at the time. That, and of course, her mother had been standing next to her lover, smirking.

Like she'd known. Like she'd been about to say something like, "Like father like daughter." Which really, Emma wouldn't have wanted to have heard. Really, no.

But she's been (relatively) good for the last week or so, and the jagged wound in her gut has finally closed up enough that Victor seems reasonably confident that she won't bleed to death if left unsupervised for more than five minutes at a time.

Which seems insulting, really, because despite actions to the opposite, she is an adult who is entirely capable of taking care of herself. Most of the time, anyway.

Either way, she's incredibly thankful to be pulling her jeans on (men's jeans which means far looser ones than the usual close to the skin kind that she prefers because the idea of trying to suck in her stomach is abhorrent to her right now). Regina, her eyes keenly watchful as always, waits until she's buttoned the fly up and then offers Emma a blue and black flannel shirt which she layers over a light gray Henley.

It's about as lay-around-on-the-sofa-eating-pizza as a look can get, and for a moment, Emma feels a flush of embarrassment go through her because as usual, Regina is dressed sharply in slacks and black blouse, but then she sighs and shrugs it off; Regina isn't with her for her fashion, and after thirty years of preferring the more casual and simple things, Emma thinks that she's not exactly in a hurry to change now. Especially since the look that Regina is giving her isn't unappreciative.

"Thanks," Emma says, smiling brightly back at her. It's been a strange three weeks between them. Since that night after Regina and her mom had come back from dealing with Scar and she had promised Regina no more running away, they really haven't talked much about anything. Sure, Regina and Henry and both of her parents have been here every day and sure, Regina has fretted over her stomach wound with bemusing consistency. The one on her throat has caused a different reaction and Emma is almost afraid to push on why Regina seems so upset by it.

Which isn't to say that Emma herself is all right with having the scars of a crazed lunatic biting her pressed into her skin, but Regina has quietly assured her that once the tissue damage beneath the wound has fully healed up, they can heal away the marks. So Emma doesn't understand the upset she sees on Regina and a very large part of her (the part that will always feel like she isn't enough) is terrified to try to.

Because what if –

No. No more what ifs.

There's just this.

So she smiles again and then as she slowly and gingerly pulls the flannel on, she looks in the mirror on the backside of the door, and for the first time in weeks, she truly sees Emma Swan. Her hair is long and styled by her fingers, but she looks alive.

 _She is alive._

In any case, things have been uncomfortably strange between she and Regina and she can't say she cares for it at all. She figures it's the hospital, the anxiety and implications of this room and how ill-prepared Regina is to ever deal with that which she can't control. All of those things make sense to Emma and yet none of them settle her nerves. Now that she has finally figured things out in her head – seen what the end looks like and realized that she doesn't want to go out having never tried to be truly happy, she realizes that she just wants what she wants.

Family, friendship and love. Everything. All of it.

"Emma?" Regina prompts, noticing how her lover is gazing into the mirror.

"All good," she assures Regina and then turns slightly. It still hurts quite a bit to move around still, the healing skin continuing to pull far more than she cares to feel. But this is okay and so is moving closer to Regina, close enough to make one of Regina's eyebrows lift in anticipation and her breath catch in breathless desire.

Because it's been over three weeks – far closer to six or seven if she's actually forced to count them – since they've shared anything that was more than a chaste and sweet goodnight kiss between them. Emma wants a lot more right now.

A whole hell of a lot more.

Not that this is either the time or the place.

But when she actually thinks about its, she finds herself realizing life is so very painfully short and she'd been bleeding out in a stairwell just three short weeks ago so now she damn well intends to make sure that whatever it takes, she gets to live.

A life that includes the beautifully infuriating woman standing opposite her and the hovering always worried but now touchingly over-involved parents out in the hallway signing her check-out paperwork and the entirely too much of a smart ass son who is deeply irked that he can't be here right now because he still has school.

Family, and yeah it's more than a little bit cheesy and it makes her feel like she's in some kind of oddball _Lilo and Stitch_ kind of movie, but this weird little family is hers and it's worth everything to her, and she just wishes she hadn't almost had to die to understand she was only running away from her own happiness while she'd been so ferociously trying to protect herself. Yes, she has loved and lost and those scars will stay with her forever. She'll never forget any of them, is actually incapable of it. Now, though, she realizes – finally (and painfully) – that she's no longer willing to give up the chance to have the imperfect perfection that is this life she has.

This life with Regina and Henry and her parents.

So she steps forward, slides her body completely into Regina's personal space, gently loops an arm around her lover's slim waist and then pulls her as close as possible with their clothes still. Leaning in, she presses her lips lightly against Regina's, warm breath passing between them as she tries to say so much to her.

Things like, "I love you."

Which she's said a few times already, but now wants to show.

Her eyes close and the kiss deepens and there are teeth and –

"Uh, sorry to interrupt," Victor coughs. "Your wheelchair is here, Miss Swan."

They turn to face him, and Emma might have been expecting embarrassment on his face at what he'd just walked in, but Regina sees exactly what she'd been anticipating knowing Victor Whale which is a knowing and wholly lecherous smirk.

She rolls her eyes at him, just does refrain from calling him an insufferable bastard and instead says gently, "Emma." She nudges her head towards the wheelchair.

"I can walk."

"Rules," Victor says. "And Regina promised she'd make you'd adhere to them."

"Traitor," Emma mumbles.

"Even if I have to play by the rules by the rules every now and again, dear. Besides, I do believe that your father wanted to push you," Regina drawls, her tone dry. "I think that the child in him wants to come out and rough-house with you for awhile."

A warm chuckle from the doorway answers that and then David and Snow are entering the room, a stack of papers tucked under Snow's arm. Snow's eyes flicker over Emma, taking her in. After a moment, apparently satisfied with her daughters' condition, Snow turns to David and says sweetly, "No wheelies, you two."

"Damn," David grins and then moves over to the wheelchair. He watches as Emma reluctantly moves towards it, wincing as she lowers herself into it. They know that getting into it is the easy part, and she'll likely need help getting out of it, but that's for later. For now, it's just this moment of realizing that they'd survived this, and letting her do this on her own. He leans forward, presses a kiss to the top of her head, shrugs when she pretends to roll her eyes, and then says, "You up for seeing how fast we can go down the hallway?" Like she's just as much of a kid as he is.

She probably is, she muses.

"No," both Snow and Regina say at the same time.

So Emma replies, "Yes."

And then grins up at Regina.

Who snorts in bemusement and just barely stops herself from kissing Emma.

That, she supposed, can wait for later.

* * *

Before they'd left the hospital, there had been a brief discussion over where Emma would return to for the rest of her lengthy recovery. Regina – trying to be understanding of the newness of this commitment of theirs – had said that she could stay with Emma at her apartment for a few weeks (the idea of staying at the loft again had been shot down immediately thanks to rapidly growing little brother Neal who never stops moving), but that idea had quickly (and thankfully, from Regina's POV) been pushed away and it had been decided that she would continue her healing at the Mayoral Mansion. Tucked safely away in one of the guest rooms.

In theory, anyway.

In reality, there's one thing Emma wants right now and as much as she craves the physicality of making love to Regina (and she does want that), what she truly wants is just the warmth of being next to her when everything is quiet – the feeling that comes with realizing that you're not alone in the world. She's had that before – had it in moments that have passed too quickly – and vows she'll hold on this time.

* * *

Henry leaves school that afternoon as quickly as he possibly can and gets home just after three, allowing a breath of relief when he enters to find Emma on the couch, a blanket slung over her, and Regina in the kitchen making dinner. The dinner table is already set and it's clear that his grandparents will be coming back over soon.

Which is fantastic, but for the moment, he just wants to be with his mothers.

He hugs Regina, and she thinks about how thankful she is that even as he grows taller and becomes a man - bigger and stronger every single day -, he's still willing to do this. How thankful she is that he still needs her as much as she need him.

And then he sits down next to Emma, pulls her legs over his, and hands her a PlayStation controller. A look passes between them, and he knows that eventually there will be a in-depth conversation about what he almost did, but not now.

Now, is just about them and right now.

Because this is their family and there's no better hope than these moments.

* * *

Dinner is loud and obnoxious and she thinks her parents are watching she and Regina just a bit too carefully, like they think they're about to start making out at any moment. She wonders if that's just the two of them just adapting to this or if it's them having weird mental roadblocks about the two women thing, but either way, her mom keeps getting that weird wistful smile and she's pretty sure that there's going to come an uncomfortable moment where she asks them to kiss.

Thankfully, that moment never comes.

The one that does come, however, is the one where her mother finds her by herself in the kitchen (she'd insisted on doing the dishes because even as sore as she is, she still needs to be in motion and after three weeks in that bed, even this feels like some kind of perfect) and pulls her into her arms and says, "In case you ever doubt how much I love you, how much you mean to me, know that I would have killed that man a thousand times over if I thought that you would have been all right with that. And if he ever finds a way to come near you again, I will destroy him."

Emma lets out a choked cough of laughter, caught between desperately touched and morbidly amused. It's not every day that a promise of murder can grip you right in the middle of your chest and squeeze hard. Well, at least not one from your mother (when you're sleeping with the Evil Queen, you kind of learn to find such statements oddly romantic in a weirdly twisted and bent kind of way).

"I'm okay," Emma promises her, not letting go of her mother.

"I know. But you scared me."

"I scared me, too," Emma admits, dipping her head in for a moment.

"Well then, let's not do that again, okay?" Snow pleads as she pulls back and moves a strand of blonde hair away from Emma's forehead, smiling up at her daughter with so much unrestrained love, unshed tears gleaming in her bright green eyes.

"I'm the Savior," Emma reminds her. "I always make it through, right?"

"You're my daughter," Snow counters. "Emma. Nothing else matters."

"Where is this coming from?" Emma asks.

"It's not coming from anywhere, but it is a long time in coming. These are the things that I should have said to you…years ago, but almost didn't get the chance to. I should have - we should - have had this talk long before you became the Dark One, and almost left us, but most certainly after, and I didn't. Emma, I'm sorry."

"You forgive me for what I did during that time, right?"

"Of course."

"Then I think I can forgive you for what you didn't do. I just want…this." She waves her hand around, her gesture encompassing the entire house and everyone in it. "I'm sick of living in fear and regret. I just want a chance to be happy. That's it."

Snow steps forward and hugs her again. "You'll have it," she promises.

And Emma thinks as she holds on tight, "I believe you."

* * *

The last thing Henry says as he flees into his bedroom is, "Keep it down."

Then he makes a face of disgust because he's fifteen and he has seen a Playboy.

Regina isn't entirely sure how one got into town, but well, he has visuals now.

But then the door to the master bedroom is closing and Emma is stepping close to her, and they're breathing in the same air and all thoughts about Henry and dirty magazines are flickering away. "Hi," Emma says in that somewhat nervous voice she gets when she's a bit off-balance. She's moving in, though, her small height advantage giving her just enough size to be visually dominant for a moment.

"Hi," Regina replies in bemusement, smirking as she leans up and kisses Emma long and hard and without reservation. She's not in the mood for games or further separation. It's been too long and she wants to feel everything that she's missed.

She wants to feel everything that there is to feel.

 _She wants Emma._

Slowly, she peels away Emma's clothing – the flannel, the Henley and then the jeans. Emma is in matching undergarments, a bold red color that makes Regina smirk at the cheekiness of it (she hadn't been wearing these when they'd left the hospital, which means that she'd come upstairs and changed just for this moment).

"Beautiful," Regina murmurs, her hands reaching out to run down the length of Emma's long arms and then to come around to lightly touch at the swells of her breasts, the tips of her fingers brushing teasingly against cloth-covered but already hardened nipples (she enjoys Emma's soft gasp, and Emma enjoys that she does). Below the line of her bra, the gauze is still there, covering a wound that is still healing and will be for quite awhile to come. The skin there is tender and new, and Regina finds that she hungers to taste it. But not tonight. No, they have all the time in the world for that kind of exploration. Tonight, she will take what is given to her.

And there's a whole hell of a lot that's being freely given to her.

"You're wearing too much," Emma notes with a pout that doesn't meet her eyes even if the slightly wolfish grin that she's wearing does. "I don't like it." She says this between kisses that start out relatively tender but rapidly grow into something far more feverish and needy, escalating into something demanding and wanting.

She pulls her lips away from Regina's and brings them to the older woman's slender neck, tracing her teeth over the skin there for half a second before suddenly stopping, a frown upon her lips as she remembers the garish bite mark on her neck.

"Emma?"

"Are you okay with it?" she asks, sounding unsteady. "Me biting you, I mean?"

Regina chuckles at that, warm and deep like liquid fudge. "Oh yes, my dear."

"It's not possessive?"

"Perhaps it is," Regina allows. "And while we are both clothed and acting in our roles as the Mayor and the Sheriff of this little town of ours, I have no desire to ever be possessed by anyone - not even you - but here in this room, in this bed with you, I have absolutely no problem with it. And besides, you have never marked me to own me. So if the question is do I like it, then the answer is yes."

"Then why have you seemed so...put off by it?" she presses. "The wound on my stomach hasn't been an issue, but -"

"I'm still me...and I am still prone to getting...angry," Regina says softly, her fingers lightly dancing against Emma's cheek. "At him. At myself. I see that mark on you, and I get angry because that...animal had no right to touch you like that. Or to make you think that you ever need to ask me these questions." Her thumb lightly traces against the scar there. "To make you ever think that I could love you less for this. So it's me, Emma; I get angry because I do not deal particularly well with someone having hurt you. In any way."

"I'm okay," Emma assures her, a hand sliding over Regina's and pulling it away from her cheek so that she can bring it to her lips.

Regina smiles wickedly in response to that, the gaze full of so much desire and want that it makes Emma's body heat up. "Oh, yes you are. But I must admit that I feel that at this point, I should point out to you that I am still wearing too many clothes, Emma."

Emma laughs loudly at that. "Yeah, you are." And then she's jerking forward and kissing Regina passionately again and her hands are moving down the older woman's body, peeling open the blouse and pushing down the slacks and her mouth is lowering down first to Regina's always sensitive neck and then to the swell of her even more sensitive breasts and then nipples that are begging for attention.

Which she happily gives them. One, and then the other.

She listens as Regina lets out this throaty moan that echoes through the room and then sighs in happiness when she feels a long leg swipe around her waist, pulling her closer. Her hands scrape against Regina's buttocks, then up her back again.

"Bed," Regina mutters. "Now. Or else I'll end up taking you against the wall, and I'm pretty sure that Henry won't be able to pretend that it's not what it is."

Emma snorts in bemused response to that and then shrugs her shoulders. "Works for me." She pushes them back and then they're tumbling together onto the mattress. Involuntarily, though, she winces, her side pulling just a bit as they fall.

Which, of course, Regina notices. "Emma –"

"I'm fine," she insists and then feverishly kisses Regina again and again.

Because it's not just safe meaningless sex anymore. Maybe it had started out that way for them in the beginning (that's a lie, and now they both know it – there's no way that it could have ever stayed that). Maybe it had been meant to be just that (of course it had, but there's moving the moon and changing fate and just them). Maybe it would have been better for everyone if it had just stayed that way (but then there would be a hole within both of them, and sometimes you realize that).

It's not just meaningless sex, and she is so madly in love with this woman (and loved so madly in return, she knows) that the idea of not touching her and not making love to her until the sun comes up is utterly absurd to her. She wants so very much and for once, no one is telling her that she can't have whatever it is that she desires.

So she takes and she has and then Regina is clutching her and holding onto her like she's some kind of unimaginable gift and the soft rumbling cries that come from her ruby red lips are like a song and God, when did she become so insanely sappy?

She would laugh at that, but she's feeling far too much right now. She feels fingers pressed into her back and those same strong fingers are gripping at her body, and she's turning and then Regina is kissing her with a kind of hunger that only she could ever really understand. It's so much fear and loss and desperation and the scars of a hundred times when neither one of them had been enough for someone else.

It's the past and all of its damage.

It's the present and all of its hope.

She feels Regina's tongue swipe over the mostly healed wound on her neck, gentle and loving and letting her know that this is nothing to them and most certainly nothing to her; it's just a piece of the past that doesn't matter.

Something that won't hold them back.

Not anymore.

It's sex, and it's amazing and it's not sex at all; it's more than that in a way that she can't even begin to put into proper words

Her eyes roll back when she feels Regina lowering herself down her body, the older woman's elegant, but deceptively strong fingers pressed into her thighs, and then higher and then pushing into her, claiming her with a hunger almost beyond description. There's a soft chuckle, then, and Emma doesn't even need to bother to look to know Regina is smirking up at her, enjoying the gasping sounds that she's making (the ones that she's trying to muffle and hadn't it been easier to do that when it had just been sex between them?) entirely too much. When she comes, it's not with bright lights exploding, but with a surge of something so fierce and brilliant that tears leak from her eyes and oh, that's pretty damned embarrassing, right?

Only apparently it's not because Regina is lifting herself up and kissing the tears away from her cheeks and kissing her lips and then their legs and their hands and every single part of them is tangling together. "I love you," Regina whispers to her, and Emma knows it for the gift that it is, knows how difficult love is for them both.

Not to have – they both have more than enough of it inside of them – but to give; how hard it is to love without fearing the eventual destruction and loss of it and to receive it without having the same dark fears encroaching on their every day lives.

She knows how hard the words are to believe, even harder to say.

So Emma pulls her close, close enough that they can both feel the other ones' heart pounding away in their chests, strong and vibrant and ferocious, and she presses her mouth to Regina's ear. "I love you, too," she whispers, a plea and a promise.

 _Don't leave me and I won't leave you._

Regina exhales and then she's turning and their lips are coming together again, softer than have expected, but needy and wanting and yeah, this isn't sex.

Maybe it never was.

* * *

It's these moments, Emma thinks, theses are the ones that she'd been so afraid of.

The ones she'd always run away from.

Hidden from.

The moments when they're just lying together, facing each other.

Not saying anything.

A stray hand reaching out to brush hair away.

Another one tracing the lines of a perfect jaw.

A soft kiss and then an even softer breath out.

These are the scary moments.

The perfect ones.

* * *

"Why are you still up, Kid?" Emma asks as she slips into the kitchen. It's almost three in the morning, and just the abnormality of the normal sleep rhythms of being back in a house instead of in a hospital room has her awake and moving about.

"Why are you up at all?" Henry fires back smirking at her in a way that's both knowing (as much as a boy his age can know) and cheeky. "Shouldn't you be doing things to you know –" he swirls his hand around in the air, a bit like Rumple does.

"What does that even mean?"

"Nothing that I want to think about," he admits. "And I couldn't sleep."

"You okay?"

"Yeah. Are you? You're walking weird." He frowns. "That's from –"

"The wound on my side not…yeah. I'm fine. Just…sore. But fine." Then, "So…"

"Is there where you finally talk to me about what I almost did with Scar?"

"This is where I tell you that I'm incredibly proud to have a son who is willing to protect his family, but I do not even want you following either Regina or I or anyone else into that…I don't ever want blood on your hands, Henry. Not ever, okay?"

"Ma –"

"I will for the rest of my life dream about what I did as the Dark One. I will forever remember holding your mother's heart in my hand squeezing it. I will forever remember the screams. That's my burden, Henry. And you know Regina carries one far worse than that. Neither of us want that for you." She smiles at him, soft and emotional. "You're what reminds all of us that we can be the best of ourselves."

"I just wanted to protect you. Both of you."

"You do. By reminding us of what we're capable of being. What we want to be. That's your job. You never gave up faith in me, you never let anyone do it. And because you didn't, they didn't. None of us work if you give that up faith, Henry."

"We grow up, right?"

"Unfortunately, but that doesn't mean we always have to see the bad stuff more than good stuff. Is that why you're up so late? Thinking about all of this stuff."

"Well that and I heard sounds coming from your room that I'd really prefer not to have heard." He chuckles. "But yeah, I guess. I mean, I'm not ten anymore," he reminds her. "I know there's bad shit in the world. I've seen it between Neverland and the Author and Zelena and the Dark One stuff and then Scar. I've seen all of it."

"I know you have, Kid, and I hate that you have seen all of that, but you are still my son, and until the day I die, I'll going to do my best to keep you seeing the light."

"Don't die anytime soon," he says, and yeah, in this moment he is ten again.

She presses her forehead against his (and she has to gingerly lift herself off the ground just a bit because she's only five-five and he's quite a bit taller than that) and says, "I'll promise you the same thing I promised your mom; I'm not going anywhere. That was my life and death adventure, now I'm sticking around."

"That all depends on if you climb out of my bed ever again," Regina mumbles from the doorway of the kitchen. When she enters, Emma's eyes sweep over her, taking in the carefully cinched up robe and the heavily tousled hair. Henry's too young to recognize that as "sex hair" but Emma isn't, and she's immediately grinning away.

Which earns her a playful slap on the arm as Regina passes by, moving over to stand by the stove. Without hesitation, Regina bends down and picks up a pot, placing it on the burner. She has milk in her hands a moment later, and okay, so apparently this is going to be a family hot cocoa thing. Which brings on another bright smile

"Guys," Henry reminds them, good-naturedly, his eyes watching both of them.

Watching as Ma slips behind Mom and hugs her tight for just a brief moment, their cheeks touching in a way that seems entirely too intimate for him to be seeing.

Watching as Mom tilts her head back and steals a kiss when Ma whispers a sheepish sounding, "Sorry." Presumably for having left Mom alone in her… _their_ bed.

Watching them, and realizing that this isn't the fairy tale, but it's somehow better.

And when Mom puts the whipped cream drenched mugs of hot cocoa down on the counter – including one for herself – and then slips her hand into Emma's without any kind of fuss or massive statement about why she is, just doing it like they fit together kind of naturally and right, Henry grins and thinks yeah, much better.

He catches a curious and somewhat loaded look that passes between his mothers, then, and he doesn't know what it means, but thinks that they certainly do.

Because as it turns out, it really was a thing after all.

 **-Fin**

 **:D**

 **For anyone interested, I can be found over at sgtmac7 over on Tumblr**


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